Harvard Classics Volume 20. Golden Deer Classics

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      To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

      A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

      Betokening rage. They with their hands alone

      Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,

      Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.

      The good instructor spake: “Now seest thou, son!

      The souls of those, whom anger overcame.

      This too for certain know, that underneath

      The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs

      Into these bubbles make the surface heave,

      As thine eye tells thee wheresoe’er it turn.

      Fix’d in the slime, they say: ‘Sad once were we,

      In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,

      Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:

      Now in these murky settlings are we sad.’

      Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats,

      But word distinct can utter none.” Our route

      Thus compass’d we, a segment widely stretch’d

      Between the dry embankment, and the core

      Of the loath’d pool, turning meanwhile our eyes

      Downward on those who gulp’d its muddy lees;

      Nor stopp’d, till to a tower’s low base we came.

Canto VIII

      Argument.—A signal having been made from the tower, Phlegyas, the ferryman of the lake, speedily crosses it, and conveys Virgil and Dante to the other side. On their passage, they meet with Filippo Argenti, whose fury and torment are described. They then arrive at the city of Dis, the entrance whereto is denied, and the portals closed against them by many Demons.

      My theme pursuing, I relate, that ere

      We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes

      Its height ascended, where we mark’d uphung

      Two cressets, and another saw from far

      Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

      The eye could catch its beam. I, turning round

      To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquired:

      “Say what this means; and what, that other light

      In answer set: what agency doth this?”

      “There on the filthy waters,” he replied,

      “E’en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,

      If the marsh-gendered fog conceal it not.”

      Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d,

      That ran its way so nimbly through the air,

      As a small bark, that through the waves I spied

      Toward us coming, under the sole sway

      Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:

      “Art thou arrived, fell spirit?”—“Phlegyas, Phlegyas,^[49]

      This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;

      “No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er

      The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears

      Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat

      Inly he pines: so Phlegyas inly pined

      In his fierce ire. My guide, descending, stepp’d

      Into the skiff, and bade me enter next,

      Close at his side; nor, till my entrance, seem’d

      The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d,

      Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,

      More deeply than with others it is wont.

      While we our course o’er the dead channel held,

      One drench’d in mire before me came, and said:

      “Who art thou, that thus comest ere thine hour?”

      I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not:

      But who art thou, that art become so foul?”

      “One, as thou seest, who mourn:” he straight replied.

      To which I thus: “In mourning and in woe,

      Curst spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

      E’en thus in filth disguised.” Then stretch’d he forth

      Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage

      Aware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there

      To the other dogs!” then, with his arms my neck

      Encircling, kiss’d my cheek, and spake: “O soul,

      Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom

      Thou wast conceived. He in the world was one

      For arrogance noted: to his memory

      No virtue lends its lustre; even so

      Here is his shadow furious. There above,

      How many now hold themselves mighty kings,

      Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,

      Leaving behind them horrible dispraise.”

      I then: “Master! him fain would I behold

      Whelm’d in these dregs, before we quit the lake.”

      He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shore

      Be offer’d, satisfied shall be that wish,

      Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his words

      Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes

      Set on him with such violence, that yet

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