Harvard Classics Volume 20. Golden Deer Classics

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СКАЧАТЬ him in rank.” Then further on a space

      The Centaur paused, near some, who at the throat

      Were extant from the wave; and, showing us

      A spirit by itself apart retired,

      Exclaim’d: “He^[90] in God’s bosom smote the heart,

      Which yet is honored on the bank of Thames.”

      A race I next espied who held the head,

      And even all the bust, above the stream.

      ’Midst these I many a face remember’d well.

      Thus shallow more and more the blood became,

      So that at last it but imbrued the feet;

      And there our passage lay athwart the foss.

      “As ever on this side the boiling wave

      Thou seest diminishing,” the Centaur said,

      “So on the other, be thou well assured,

      It lower still and lower sinks its bed,

      Till in that part it reuniting join,

      Where ’tis the lot of tyranny to mourn.

      There Heaven’s stern justice lays chastising hand

      On Attila, who was the scourge of earth,

      On Sextus and on Pyrrhus,^[91] and extracts

      Tears ever by the seething flood unlock’d

      From the Rinieri, of Corneto this,

      Pazzo the other named,^[92] who fill’d the ways

      With violence and war.” This said, he turn’d,

      And quitting us, alone repass’d the ford.

Canto XIII

      Argument.—Still in the seventh circle, Dante enters its second compartment, which contains both those who have done violence on their own persons and those who have violently consumed their goods; the first changed into rough and knotted trees whereon the harpies build their nests, the latter chased and torn by black female mastiffs. Among the former, Piero delle Vigne is one who tells him the cause of his having committed suicide, and moreover in what manner the souls are transformed into those trunks. Of the latter crew, he recognizes Lano, a Siennese, and Giacomo, a Paduan; and lastly, a Florentine, who had hung himself from his own roof, speaks to him of the calamities of his countrymen.

      Ere Nessus yet had reach’d the other bank,

      We enter’d on a forest, where no track

      Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there

      The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light

      The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform’d

      And matted thick: fruits there were none, but thorns

      Instead, with venom fill’d. Less sharp than these,

      Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide

      Those animals, that hate the cultured fields,

      Betwixt Corneto and Cecina’s stream.^[93]

      Here the brute harpies make their nest, the same

      Who from the Strophades the Trojan band

      Drove with dire boding of their future woe.

      Broad are their pennons, of the human form

      Their neck and countenance, arm’d with talons keen

      The feet, and the huge belly fledged with wings.

      These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood.

      The kind instructor in these words began:

      “Ere further thou proceed, know thou art now

      I’ th’ second round, and shalt be, till thou come

      Upon the horrid sand: look therefore well

      Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold,

      As would my speech discredit.” On all sides

      I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see

      From whom they might have issued. In amaze

      Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem’d, believed

      That I had thought so many voices came

      From some amid those thickets close conceal’d,

      And thus his speech resum’d: “If thou lop off

      A single twig from one of those ill plants,

      The thought thou hast conceived shall vanish quite.”

      Thereat a little stretching forth my hand,

      From a great wilding gather’d I a branch,

      And straight the trunk exclaim’d: “Why pluck’st thou me?”

      Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,

      These words it added: “Wherefore tear’st me thus?

      Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?

      Men once were we, that now are rooted here.

      Thy hand might well have spared us, had we been

      The souls of serpents.” As a brand yet green,

      That burning at one end from the other sends

      A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind

      That forces out its way, so burst at once

      Forth from the broken splinter words and blood.

      I, letting fall the bough, remain’d as one

      Assail’d by terror; and the sage replied:

      “If he, O injured spirit! could have believed

      What he hath seen but in my verse described,

      He never against thee had stretch’d his hand.

      But I, because the thing surpass’d belief,

      Prompted him to this deed, which even now

      Myself СКАЧАТЬ