Golden Deer Classics

Harvard Classics Volume 20


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dragg’d

      To earth, or through obstruction fettering up

      In chains invisible the powers of man,

      Who, risen from his trance, gazeth around,

      Bewilder’d with the monstrous agony

      He hath endured, and wildly staring sighs;

      So stood aghast the sinner when he rose.

      Oh! how severe God’s judgment, that deals out

      Such blows in stormy vengeance. Who he was,

      My teacher next inquired; and thus in few

      He answer’d: “Vanni Fucci[161] am I call’d,

      Not long since rained down from Tuscany

      To this dire gullet. Me the bestial life

      And not the human pleased, mule that I was,

      Who in Pistoia found my worthy den.”

      I then to Virgil: “Bid him stir not hence;

      And ask what crime did thrust him thither: once

      A man I knew him, choleric and bloody.”

      The sinner heard and feign’d not, but toward me

      His mind directing and his face, wherein

      Was dismal shame depictured, thus he spake:

      “It grieves me more to have been caught by thee

      In this sad plight, which thou beholdest, than

      When I was taken from the other life.

      I have no power permitted to deny

      What thou inquirest. I am doom’d thus low

      To dwell, for that the sacristy by me

      Was rifled of its goodly ornaments,

      And with the guilt another falsely charged.

      But that thou mayst not joy to see me thus,

      So as thou e’er shalt ’scape this darksome realm,

      Open thine ears and hear what I forebode.

      Reft of the Neri first Pistoia[162] pines;

      Then Florence[163] changeth citizens and laws;

      From Valdimagra,[164] drawn by wrathful Mars,

      A vapor rises, wrapt in turbid mists,

      And sharp and eager driveth on the storm

      With Arrowy hurtling o’er Piceno’s field,

      Whence suddenly the cloud shall burst, and strike

      Each helpless Bianco prostrate to the ground.

      This have I told, that grief may rend thy heart.”

      Argument.—The sacrilegious Fucci vents his fury in blasphemy, is seized by serpents, and flying is pursued by Cacus in the form of a Centaur, who is described with a swarm of serpents on his haunch, and a dragon on his shoulders breathing forth fire. Our Poet then meets with the spirits of three of his countrymen, two of whom undergo a marvelous transformation in his presence.

      When he had spoke, the sinner raised his hands[165]

      Pointed in mockery and cried” “Take them, God!

      I level them at thee.” From that day forth

      The serpents were my friends; for round his neck

      One of them rolling twisted, as it said,

      “Be silent, tongue!” Another, to his arms

      Upgliding, tied them, riveting itself

      So close, it took from them the power to move.

      Pistoia! ah, Pistoia! why dost doubt

      To turn thee into ashes, cumbering earth

      No longer, since in evil act so far

      Thou hast outdone thy seed? I did not mark,

      Through all the gloomy circles of the abyss,

      Spirit, that swell’d so proudly ’gainst his God;

      Not him,[166] who headlong fell from Thebes. He fled,

      Nor utter’d more; and after him there came

      A Centaur full of fury, shouting, “Where,

      Where is the caitiff?” On Maremma’s marsh[167]

      Swarm not the serpent tribe, as on his haunch

      They swarm’d, to where the human face begins.

      Behind his head, upon the shoulders, lay

      With open wings a dragon, breathing fire

      On whomsoe’er he met. To me my guide:

      “Cacus is this, who underneath the rock

      Of Aventine spread oft a lake of blood.

      He, from his brethren parted, here must tread

      A different journey, for his fraudful theft

      Of the great herd that near him stall’d; whence found

      His felon deeds their end, beneath the mace

      Of stout Alcides, that perchance laid on

      A hundred blows, and not the tenth was felt.”

      While yet he spake, the Centaur sped away:

      And under us three spirits came, of whom

      Nor I nor he was ware, till they exclaim’d,

      “Say who are ye!” We then brake off discourse,

      Intent on these alone. I knew them not:

      But, as it chanceth oft, befell that one

      Had need to name another. “Where,” said he,

      “Doth Cianfa[168] lurk?” I, for a sign my guide

      Should stand attentive, placed against my lips

      The finger lifted. If, O reader! now

      Thou be not apt to credit what I tell,

      No marvel; for myself do scarce allow

      The witness of mine eyes. But as I look’d

      Toward them, lo! a serpent with six feet

      Springs forth on one, and fastens full upon him:

      His midmost grasp’d the belly, a forefoot

      Seized on each arm (while deep in either cheek

      He flesh’d his fangs); the hinder on the thighs

      Were spread, ’twixt which the tail inserted curl’d

      Upon the reins behind. Ivy ne’er clasp’d

      A dodder’d oak, as round the other’s limbs

      The hideous monster intertwined his own.

      Then, as they both had been of burning wax,

      Each melted into other, mingling hues,

      That which was either now was seen no more.

      Thus up the shrinking paper, ere it burns,

      A brown tint glides, not turning yet to black,

      And the clean white expires. The other two

      Look’d on exclaiming, “Ah! how dost thou change,

      Agnello![169] See! Thou art nor double now,

      Nor