The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri (good e books to read txt) š
- Author: Dante Alighieri
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āTheā old mastiff of Verruchio and the young, That tore Montagna in their wrath, still make, Where they are wont, an augre of their fangs.
āLamoneās city and Santernoās range Under the lion of the snowy lair.
Inconstant partisan! that changeth sides, Or ever summer yields to winterās frost.
And she, whose flank is washād of Savioās wave, As ātwixt the level and the steep she lies, Lives so ātwixt tyrant power and liberty.
āNow tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou?
Be not more hard than others. In the world, So may thy name still rear its forehead high.ā
Then roarād awhile the fire, its sharpenād point On either side wavād, and thus breathād at last: āIf I did think, my answer were to one, Who ever could return unto the world, This flame should rest unshaken. But since neāer, If true be told me, any from this depth Has found his upward way, I answer thee, Nor fear lest infamy record the words.
āA man of arms at first, I clothād me then In good Saint Francisā girdle, hoping so Tā have made amends. And certainly my hope Had failād not, but that he, whom curses light on, Theā high priest again seducād me into sin.
And how and wherefore listen while I tell.
Long as this spirit movād the bones and pulp My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake The nature of the lion than the fox.
All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted, that the sound Reachād the worldās limit. Soon as to that part Of life I found me come, when each behoves To lower sails and gather in the lines; That which before had pleased me then I rued, And to repentance and confession turnād; Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me!
The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, Waging his warfare near the Lateran, Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes All Christians were, nor against Acre one Had fought, nor trafficād in the Soldanās land), He his great charge nor sacred ministry In himself, revārencād, nor in me that cord, Which usād to mark with leanness whom it girded.
As in Socrate, Constantine besought To cure his leprosy Sylvesterās aid, So me to cure the fever of his pride This man besought: my counsel to that end He askād: and I was silent: for his words Seemād drunken: but forthwith he thus resumād: āFrom thy heart banish fear: of all offence I hitherto absolve thee. In return, Teach me my purpose so to execute, That Penestrino cumber earth no more.
Heavān, as thou knowest, I have power to shut And open: and the keys are therefore twain, The which my predecessor meanly prizād.ā
Then, yielding to the forceful arguments, Of silence as more perilous I deemād, And answerād: āFather! since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall, Large promise with performance scant, be sure, Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.ā
āWhen I was numberād with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark He met, who cried: āāWrong me not; he is mine, And must below to join the wretched crew, For the deceitful counsel which he gave.
Eāer since I watchād him, hovāring at his hair, No power can the impenitent absolve; Nor to repent and will at once consist, By contradiction absolute forbid.ā
Oh misāry! how I shook myself, when he Seizād me, and cried, āThou haply thoughtāst me not A disputant in logic so exact.ā
To Minos down he bore me, and the judge Twinād eight times round his callous back the tail, Which biting with excess of rage, he spake: āThis is a guilty soul, that in the fire Must vanish.ā Hence perdition-doomād I rove A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb.ā
When he had thus fulfillād his words, the flame In dolour parted, beating to and fro, And writhing its sharp horn. We onward went, I and my leader, up along the rock, Far as another arch, that overhangs The foss, wherein the penalty is paid Of those, who load them with committed sin.
CANTO XXVIII
WHO, eāen in words unfetterād, might at full Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought Both impotent alike. If in one band Collected, stood the people all, who eāer Pourād on Apuliaās happy soil their blood, Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war When of the rings the measurād booty made A pile so high, as Romeās historian writes Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt The grinding force of Guiscardās Norman steel, And those the rest, whose bones are gatherād yet At Ceperano, there where treachery Branded thā Apulian name, or where beyond Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms The old Alardo conquerād; and his limbs One were to show transpiercād, another his Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this Were but a thing of nought, to theā hideous sight Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide, As one I markād, torn from the chin throughout Down to the hinder passage: ātwixt the legs Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay Open to view, and wretched ventricle, That turns thā englutted aliment to dross.
Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze, He eyād me, with his hands laid his breast bare, And cried; āNow mark how I do rip me! lo!
How is Mohammed mangled! before me Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face Cleft to the forelock; and the others all Whom here thou seest, while they livād, did sow Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent.
A fiend is here behind, who with his sword Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again Each of this ream, when we have compast round The dismal way, for first our gashes close Ere we repass before him. But say who Art thou, that standest musing on the rock, Haply so lingering to delay the pain Sentencād upon thy crimes?āāāHim death not yet,ā
My guide rejoinād, āhath overtaāen, nor sin Conducts to torment; but, that he may make Full trial of your state, I who am dead Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb, Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true.ā
More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard, Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed, Forgetful of their pangs. āThou, who perchance Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not Here soon to follow me, that with good store Of food he arm him, lest imprisāning snows Yield him a victim to Novaraās power, No easy conquest else.ā With foot upraisād For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground Then fixād it to depart. Another shade, Piercād in the throat, his nostrils mutilate Eāen from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood Gazing, before the rest advancād, and barād His wind-pipe, that without was all oāersmearād With crimson stain. āO thou!ā said āhe, āwhom sin Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind Piero of Medicina, if again
Returning, thou beholdāst the pleasant land That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo; And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo, That if āt is givān us here to scan aright The future, they out of lifeās tenement Shall be cast forth, and whelmād under the waves Near to Cattolica, through perfidy Of a fell tyrant. āTwixt the Cyprian isle And Balearic, neāer hath Neptune seen An injury so foul, by pirates done Or Argive crew of old. That one-eyād traitor (Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain His eye had still lackād sight of) them shall bring To confārence with him, then so shape his end, That they shall need not āgainst Focaraās wind Offer up vow nor prayār.ā I answering thus: āDeclare, as thou dost wish that I above May carry tidings of thee, who is he, In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?ā
Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws Expanding, cried: āLo! this is he I wot of; He speaks not for himself: the outcast this Who overwhelmād the doubt in Caesarās mind, Affirming that delay to men preparād Was ever harmful. āOh how terrified Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut The tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then one Maimād of each hand, uplifted in the gloom The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots Sullied his face, and cried: āāRemember thee Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaimād, āThe deed once done there is an end,ā that provād A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race.ā
I added: āAy, and death to thine own tribe.ā
Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off, As one grief stung to madness. But I there Still lingerād to behold the troop, and saw Things, such as I may fear without more proof To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm, The boon companion, who her strong breastplate Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within And bids him on and fear not. Without doubt I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me, A headless trunk, that even as the rest Of the sad flock pacād onward. By the hair It bore the severād member, lantern-wise Pendent in hand, which lookād at us and said, āWoeās me!ā The spirit lighted thus himself, And two there were in one, and one in two.
How that may be he knows who ordereth so.
When at the bridgeās foot direct he stood, His arm aloft he rearād, thrusting the head Full in our view, that nearer we might hear The words, which thus it utterād: āNow behold This grievous torment, thou, who breathing goāst To spy the dead; behold if any else Be terrible as this. And that on earth Thou mayst bear tidings of me, know that I Am Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King John The counsel mischievous. Father and son I set at mutual war. For Absalom
And David more did not Ahitophel,
Spurring them on maliciously to strife.
For parting those so closely knit, my brain Parted, alas! I carry from its source, That in this trunk inhabits. Thus the law Of retribution fiercely works in me.ā
CANTO XXIX
SO were mine eyes inebriate with view Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds Disfigurād, that they longād to stay and weep.
But Virgil rousād me: āWhat yet gazest on?
Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below Among the maimād and miserable shades?
Thou hast not shewn in any chasm beside This weakness. Know, if thou wouldst number them That two and twenty miles the valley winds Its circuit, and already is the moon Beneath our feet: the time permitted now Is short, and more not seen remains to see.ā
āIf thou,ā I straight replied, āhadst weighād the cause For which I lookād, thou hadst perchance excusād The tarrying still.ā My leader part pursuād His way, the while I followād, answering him, And adding thus: āWithin that cave I deem, Whereon so fixedly I held my ken,
There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood, Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear.ā
Then spake my master: āLet thy soul
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