The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso (3 Classic Unabridged Translations in one eBook: Cary's + Longfellow's + Norton's Translation + Original Illustrations by Gustave Doré). Dante Alighieri
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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       Than sablest grain: and we in company

       Of the' inky waters, journeying by their side,

       Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath.

       Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expands

       The dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the foot

       Of the grey wither'd cliffs. Intent I stood

       To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

       A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

       Betok'ning rage. They with their hands alone

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

       Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.

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       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.

       MY theme pursuing, I relate that ere

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

       Its height ascended, where two cressets hung

       We mark'd, and from afar another light

       Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

       The eye could catch its beam. I turning round

       To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir'd:

       "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-gender'd 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 arriv'd, fell spirit?"—"Phlegyas, Phlegyas,

       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 pin'd

       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.

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       While we our course o'er the dead channel held.

       One drench'd in mire before me came, and said;

       "Who art thou, that thou 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,

       Curs'd spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

       E'en thus in filth disguis'd." Then stretch'd he forth

       Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage

       Aware, thrusting him back: "Away! down there,

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       "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 was conceiv'd! 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."

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