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INFERNO XXVI - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, Vol. 1 (Inferno) (Bilingual edition) [1321]

Edition used:

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri. The Italian Text with a Translation in English Blank Verse and a Commentary by Courtney Langdon, vol. 1 (Inferno) (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1918).

Part of: The Divine Comedy, in 3 vols. (Langdon trans.)

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INFERNO XXVI

The Eighth Circle. Fraud

The Eighth Trench. Fraudulent Counselors

  • Rejoice, O Florence, since thou art so great,
  • that thou dost beat thy wings o’er sea and land,
  • while ev’n through Hell thy name is spread abroad!
  • Among the thieves five such as these I found,
  • thy citizens, whence shame accrues to me,
  • nor to great honor risest thou thereby.
  • But if the truth be dreamed at dawn’s approach,
  • thou ’lt feel a little while from now what Prato,
  • of others not to speak, is craving for thee;
  • and were it now, it would not be too soon;
  • so were it, then, since thus it needs must be!
  • for it will grieve me more, the more I age.
  • We went away, and up the flight of stairs,
  • the bournes had formed for our descent before,
  • my Teacher climbed again, and drew me with him;
  • and as we followed up the lonely path
  • among the rocks and boulders of the crag,
  • our feet proceeded not without our hands.
  • I sorrowed then, and now again I sorrow,
  • when I direct my mind to what I saw,
  • and curb my genius more than I am wont,
  • lest it should run when virtue guides it not;
  • that, if a kindly star, or aught that’s better,
  • have blest me, I myself may not regret it.
  • As many glow-worms as the countryman, —
  • who on the hillside takes his rest, when he,
  • who lights the world, least hides his face from us,
  • while to the gnat the fly is giving way, —
  • sees down along the valley where, perchance,
  • he gathers in his grapes, or ploughs his field;
  • with just as many flames the whole eighth trench
  • was gleaming bright, as I perceived at once,
  • when I was where its bottom came in view.
  • As he who by the bears avenged himself,
  • beheld Elijah’s chariot when it left,
  • and when to heaven its horses rose erect,
  • since he could not so trace it with his eyes,
  • as to see more than just the flame alone,
  • when like a little cloud it rose on high;
  • of such a nature were the flames that moved
  • along the gulley of the ditch, for none
  • displays its theft, though each a sinner hides.
  • Risen up to look, I so stood on the bridge,
  • that without being pushed I would have fallen,
  • had I not grasped a great projecting rock.
  • My Leader, who perceived me thus intent,
  • then said: “The spirits are within the fires,
  • and each is swathed by that wherewith he burns.”
  • “My Teacher,” I replied, “I ’m more assured
  • through hearing thee, but deemed it so already,
  • and wished to ask thee: ‘Who is in the flame
  • which comes along so cloven at the top,
  • that from the pyre it seems to rise, whereon
  • Etèocles was with his brother placed?’”
  • He answered me: “Therein are both Ulysses
  • and Diomed tormented, who in pain
  • thus go together, as they did in wrath;
  • and in that flame of theirs they now bewail
  • the ambush of the horse, which made the gate,
  • from which the Roman’s noble seed went forth;
  • there they lament the trick, because of which
  • Deidamìa, dead, still mourns Achilles;
  • there the Palladium’s penalty is paid.”
  • “If they can speak within those sparks,” said I,
  • “I pray thee, Teacher, much, and pray again
  • that mine be worth to thee a thousand prayers,
  • refuse not my request to linger here
  • until the horned flame come this way; thou see’st
  • that toward it I ’m inclined by great desire.”
  • And he replied to me: “Thy prayer deserves
  • much praise and therefore I accede to it,
  • but see thou that thy tongue restrain itself.
  • Leave speech to me, who have a clear idea
  • of what thou wouldst; for they, since Greeks they were,
  • might be, perchance, disdainful of thy words.”
  • After the flame had come so near to us,
  • that time and place seemed fitting to my Leader,
  • ’t was in this fashion that I heard him speak:
  • “O ye that in a single flame are two,
  • if I deserved of you, when still alive,
  • if I deserved of you or much or little,
  • when in the world I wrote the lofty verses,
  • depart not; but let one of you inform us
  • whither, when lost, he went away to die.”
  • The greater horn then of the ancient flame
  • began to quiver with a murmuring sound,
  • as would a flame made weary by the wind;
  • and then, while swaying here and there its tip,
  • as if the latter were the tongue that spoke,
  • gave forth a voice, and said: “When I departed
  • from Circe, who concealed me near Gaeta
  • more than a year before Aeneas so
  • had named the place, nor fondness for my son,
  • nor pious reverence for my agèd father,
  • nor ev’n the bounden love which should have cheered
  • Penelope, could overcome within me
  • the eagerness I had to gain experience
  • both of the world, and of the vice and worth
  • of men; but forth I put upon the deep
  • and open sea with but a single ship,
  • and with that little company, by whom
  • I had not been deserted. Both its shores
  • I then beheld, as far away as Spain,
  • Morocco and the island of the Sards,
  • and all the rest that sea bathes round about.
  • Both old and slow were I and my companions,
  • when we attained that narrow passage-way,
  • where Hercules set up those signs of his,
  • which warned men not to sail beyond their bounds;
  • Seville I left behind me on the right hand,
  • Ceuta I’d left already on the other.
  • And then I said: ‘O brothers, ye who now
  • have through a hundred thousand perils reached
  • the West, to this so short a waking-time
  • still left your senses, will not to refuse
  • experience of that world behind the sun
  • which knows not man! Bethink you of the seed
  • whence ye have sprung; for ye were not created
  • to lead the life of stupid animals,
  • but manliness and knowledge to pursue.’
  • So eager for the voyage did I make
  • my fellows by this little speech of mine,
  • that, after it, I hardly could have checked them.
  • Hence, to the morning having turned our stern,
  • we with our oars made wings for our mad flight,
  • e’er veering toward the left as on we sped.
  • Night was already seeing all the stars
  • of the other pole, and our pole so low down,
  • that from the ocean’s floor it never rose.
  • Five times rekindled, and as often quenched,
  • had been the light beneath the moon, since first
  • we entered on the passage of the deep,
  • when lo, a mountain loomed before us, dim
  • by reason of the distance, and so high
  • it seemed to me, that I had seen none such.
  • And we rejoiced; but soon our happiness
  • was turned to grief; for from the new-found land
  • a whirlwind rose, and smote our vessel’s prow;
  • three times it made her whirl with all the waters;
  • then at the fourth it made her stern go up,
  • and prow go down, even as Another pleased,
  • till over us the ocean’s waves had closed.”