COULD I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit
That hole of sorrow, o’er which ev’ry rock
His firm abutment rears, then might the vein
Of fancy rise full springing: but not mine
Such measures, and with falt’ring awe I touch
The mighty theme; for to describe the depth
Of all the universe, is no emprize
To jest with, and demands a tongue not us’d
To infant babbling. But let them assist
My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid
Amphion wall’d in Thebes, so with the truth
My speech shall best accord. Oh ill-starr’d folk,
Beyond all others wretched! who abide
In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words
To speak of, better had ye here on earth
Been flocks or mountain goats. As down we stood
In the dark pit beneath the giants’ feet,
But lower far than they, and I did gaze
Still on the lofty battlement, a voice
Bespoke me thus: “Look how thou walkest. Take
Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads
Of thy poor brethren.” Thereupon I turn’d,
And saw before and underneath my feet
A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem’d
To glass than water. Not so thick a veil
In winter e’er hath Austrian Danube spread
O’er his still course, nor Tanais far remote
Under the chilling sky. Roll’d o’er that mass
Had Tabernich or Pietrapana fall’n,
Not e’en its rim had creak’d. As peeps the frog
Croaking above the wave, what time in dreams
The village gleaner oft pursues her toil,
So, to where modest shame appears, thus low
Blue pinch’d and shrin’d in ice the spirits stood,
Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork.
His face each downward held; their mouth the cold,
Their eyes express’d the dolour of their heart.

A space I look’d around, then at my feet
Saw two so strictly join’d, that of their head
The very hairs were mingled. “Tell me ye,
Whose bosoms thus together press,” said I,
“Who are ye?” At that sound their necks they bent,
And when their looks were lifted up to me,
Straightway their eyes, before all moist within,
Distill’d upon their lips, and the frost bound
The tears betwixt those orbs and held them there.
Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos’d up
So stoutly. Whence like two enraged goats
They clash’d together; them such fury seiz’d.

And one, from whom the cold both ears had reft,
Exclaim’d, still looking downward: “Why on us
Dost speculate so long? If thou wouldst know
Who are these two, the valley, whence his wave
Bisenzio slopes, did for its master own
Their sire Alberto, and next him themselves.
They from one body issued; and throughout
Caina thou mayst search, nor find a shade
More worthy in congealment to be fix’d,
Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur’s land
At that one blow dissever’d, not Focaccia,
No not this spirit, whose o’erjutting head
Obstructs my onward view: he bore the name
Of Mascheroni: Tuscan if thou be,
Well knowest who he was: and to cut short
All further question, in my form behold
What once was Camiccione. I await
Carlino here my kinsman, whose deep guilt
Shall wash out mine.” A thousand visages
Then mark’d I, which the keen and eager cold
Had shap’d into a doggish grin; whence creeps
A shiv’ring horror o’er me, at the thought
Of those frore shallows. While we journey’d on
Toward the middle, at whose point unites
All heavy substance, and I trembling went
Through that eternal chillness, I know not
If will it were or destiny, or chance,
But, passing ‘midst the heads, my foot did strike
With violent blow against the face of one.

“Wherefore dost bruise me?” weeping, he exclaim’d,
“Unless thy errand be some fresh revenge
For Montaperto, wherefore troublest me?”

I thus: “Instructor, now await me here,
That I through him may rid me of my doubt.
Thenceforth what haste thou wilt.” The teacher paus’d,
And to that shade I spake, who bitterly
Still curs’d me in his wrath. “What art thou, speak,
That railest thus on others?” He replied:
“Now who art thou, that smiting others’ cheeks
Through Antenora roamest, with such force
As were past suff’rance, wert thou living still?”

“And I am living, to thy joy perchance,”
Was my reply, “if fame be dear to thee,
That with the rest I may thy name enrol.”

“The contrary of what I covet most,”
Said he, “thou tender’st: hence; nor vex me more.
Ill knowest thou to flatter in this vale.”

Then seizing on his hinder scalp, I cried:
“Name thee, or not a hair shall tarry here.”

“Rend all away,” he answer’d, “yet for that
I will not tell nor show thee who I am,
Though at my head thou pluck a thousand times.”

Now I had grasp’d his tresses, and stript off
More than one tuft, he barking, with his eyes
Drawn in and downward, when another cried,
“What ails thee, Bocca? Sound not loud enough
Thy chatt’ring teeth, but thou must bark outright?
“What devil wrings thee?”—”Now,” said I, “be dumb,
Accursed traitor! to thy shame of thee
True tidings will I bear.”—”Off,” he replied,
“Tell what thou list; but as thou escape from hence
To speak of him whose tongue hath been so glib,
Forget not: here he wails the Frenchman’s gold.
‘Him of Duera,’ thou canst say, ‘I mark’d,
Where the starv’d sinners pine.’ If thou be ask’d
What other shade was with them, at thy side
Is Beccaria, whose red gorge distain’d
The biting axe of Florence. Farther on,
If I misdeem not, Soldanieri bides,
With Ganellon, and Tribaldello, him
Who op’d Faenza when the people slept.”

We now had left him, passing on our way,
When I beheld two spirits by the ice
Pent in one hollow, that the head of one
Was cowl unto the other; and as bread
Is raven’d up through hunger, th’ uppermost
Did so apply his fangs to th’ other’s brain,
Where the spine joins it. Not more furiously
On Menalippus’ temples Tydeus gnaw’d,
Than on that skull and on its garbage he.

“O thou who show’st so beastly sign of hate
‘Gainst him thou prey’st on, let me hear,” said I
“The cause, on such condition, that if right
Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are,
And what the colour of his sinning was,
I may repay thee in the world above,
If that, wherewith I speak be moist so long.”