| |
| “THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe: | |
| Through me you pass into eternal pain: | |
| Through me among the people lost for aye. | |
| Justice the founder of my fabric moved: | |
| To rear me was the task of Power divine, | 5 |
| Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 1 | |
| Before me things create were none, save things | |
| Eternal, and eternal I endure. | |
| All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” | |
| Such characters, in color dim, I mark’d | 10 |
| Over a portal’s lofty arch inscribed. | |
| Whereat I thus: “Master, these words import | |
| Hard meaning.” He as one prepared replied: | |
| “Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave; | |
| Here be vile fear extinguish’d. We are come | 15 |
| Where I have told thee we shall see the souls | |
| To misery doom’d, who intellectual good | |
| Have lost.” And when his hand he had stretch’d forth | |
| To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer’d, | |
| Into that secret place he led me on. | 20 |
| Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans, | |
| Resounded through the air pierced by no star, | |
| That e’en I wept at entering. Various tongues, | |
| Horrible languages, outcries of woe, | |
| Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, | 25 |
| With hands together smote that swell’d the sounds, | |
| Made up a tumult, that forever whirls | |
| Round through that air with solid darkness stain’d, | |
| Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies. | |
| I then, with horror yet encompast, cried: | 30 |
| “O master! what is this I hear? what race | |
| Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?” | |
| He thus to me: “This miserable fate | |
| Suffer the wretched souls of those, who lived | |
| Without or praise or blame, with that ill band | 35 |
| Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious proved, | |
| Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves | |
| Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth | |
| Not to impair his lustre; nor the depth | |
| Of Hell receives them, lest the accursed tribe | 40 |
| Should glory thence with exultation vain.” | |
| I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus, | |
| That they lament so loud?” He straight replied: | |
| “That will I tell thee briefly. These of death | |
| No hope may entertain: and their blind life | 45 |
| So meanly passes, that all other lots | |
| They envy. Fame of them the world hath none, | |
| Nor suffers; Mercy and Justice scorn them both. | |
| Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.” | |
| And I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag, | 50 |
| Which whirling ran around so rapidly, | |
| That it no pause obtain’d: and following came | |
| Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er | |
| Have thought that death so many had despoil’d. | |
| When some of these I recognized, I saw | 55 |
| And knew the shade of him, who to base fear 2 | |
| Yielding, abjured his high estate. Forthwith | |
| I understood, for certain, this the tribe | |
| Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing | |
| And to His foes. These wretches, who ne’er lived, | 60 |
| Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung | |
| By wasps and hornets, which bedew’d their cheeks | |
| With blood, that, mix’d with tears, dropp’d to their feet, | |
And by disgustful worms was gather’d there.
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| |
| Then looking further onwards, I beheld | 65 |
| A throng upon the shore of a great stream: | |
| Whereat I thus: “Sir! grant me now to know | |
| Whom here we view, and whence impell’d they seem | |
| So eager to pass o’er, as I discern | |
| Through the blear light?” He thus to me in few: | 70 |
| “This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive | |
| Beside the woful tide of Acheron.” | |
| Then with eyes downward cast, and fill’d with shame, | |
| Fearing my words offensive to his ear, | |
| Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech | 75 |
| Abstain’d. And lo! toward us in a bark | |
| Comes on an old man, hoary white with eld, | |
| Crying, “Woe to you, wicked spirits! hope not | |
| Ever to see the sky again. I come | |
| To take you to the other shore across, | 80 |
| Into eternal darkness, there to dwell | |
| In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there | |
| Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave | |
| These who are dead.” But soon as he beheld | |
| I left them not, “By other way,” said he, | 85 |
| “By other haven shalt thou come to shore, | |
| Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat | |
| Must carry.” Then to him thus spake my guide: | |
| “Charon! thyself torment not: so ’tis will’d, | |
| Where will and power are one: ask thou no more.” | 90 |
| Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks | |
| Of him, the boatman o’er the livid lake, | |
| Around whose eyes glared wheeling flames. Meanwhile | |
| Those spirits, faint and naked, color changed, | |
| And gnash’d their teeth, soon as the cruel words | 95 |
| They heard. God and their parents they blasphemed, | |
| The human kind, the place, the time, and seed, | |
| That did engender them and give them birth, | |
| Then all together sorely wailing drew | |
| To the curst strand, that every man must pass | 100 |
| Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form, | |
| With eyes of burning coal, collects them all, | |
| Beckoning, and each, that lingers, with his oar | |
| Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves | |
| One still another following, till the bough | 105 |
| Strews all its honours on the earth beneath; | |
| E’en in like manner Adam’s evil brood | |
| Cast themselves, one by one, down from the shore, | |
| Each at a beck, as falcon at his call. 3 | |
| Thus go they over through the umber’d wave; | 110 |
| And ever they on the opposing bank | |
| Be landed, on this side another throng | |
| Still gathers. “Son,” thus spake the courteous guide, | |
| “Those who die subject to the wrath of God | |
| All here together come from every clime | 115 |
| And to o’erpass the river are not loth: | |
| For so Heaven’s justice goads them on, that fear | |
| Is turn’d into desire. Hence ne’er hath past | |
| Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain, | |
| Now mayst thou know the import of his words.” | 120 |
| This said, the gloomy region trembling shook | |
| So terribly, that yet with clammy dews | |
| Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast, | |
| That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame, | |
| Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I | 125 |
| Down dropp’d, as one with sudden slumber seized. | |
