Translation from Dante, Inferno, Canto 33 (Count Ugolino)

From his dire Food the griesly Fellon raised
His Gore-dyed Lips, which on the clotter'd Locks
Of th' half devoured Head he wiped, & thus
Began. Would'st thou revive the deep Despair,
The Anguish, that unutter'd nathless wrings
My inmost Heart? yet if the telling may
Beget the Traitour's Infamy, whom thus
I ceaseless gnaw insatiate; thou shalt see me
At once give loose to Utterance, and to Tears.
I know not, who thou art; nor on what Errand
Sent hither: but a Florentine my Ear,
Won by thy Tongue, declares thee. Know, thou seest
In me Count Ugolino, and Ruggieri,
Pisa's perfidious Prelate this: now hear
My Wrongs, and from them judge of my Revenge.
That I did trust him, that I was betray'd
By trusting, and by Treachery slain, it rekes not
That I advise thee. That which yet remains
To thee and all unknown (a horrid Tale)
The Bitterness of Death, I shall unfold.
Attend, and say if he have injured me.
Thro' a small crevice opening, what scant Light
That grim and antique Tower admitted (since
Of me the Tower of Famine hight, and known
To many a Wretch) already 'gan the Dawn
To send: the whilst I slumb'ring lay, and Sleep
Prophetic of my Woes with direful Hand
Oped the dark Veil of Fate. I saw methought
Towards Pisa's Mount, that intercepts the View
Of Lucca, chas'd by Hell-hounds gaunt and bloody
A Wolf full-grown; with fleet and equal Speed
His young ones ran beside him. Lanfranc there
And Sigismundo, and Gualandi rode
Amain, my deadly Foes! headed by this
The deadliest. He their Chief, the foremost He
Flash'd to pursue, and chear the eager Cry:
Nor long endur'd the Chase: the panting Sire
Of Strength bereft, his helpless offspring soon
O'erta'en beheld, and in their trembling Flanks
The hungry Pack their sharp-set Fangs embrued.
The Morn had scarce commenc'd, when I awoke
My Children (they were with me) sleep as yet
Gave not to know their Sum of Misery,
But yet in low and uncompleated Sounds
I heard 'em wail for Bread. Oh! thou art cruel,
Or Thou dost mourn to think, what my poor Heart
Foresaw, foreknew: oh! if thou weep not now,
Where are thy Tears? too soon they had aroused 'em
Sad with the Fears of Sleep, and now the Hour
Of timely Food approach'd; when at the Gate
Below I heard the dreadful Clash of Bars,
And fast'ning Bolts: then on my Children's Eyes
Speechless my Sight I fix'd, nor wept, for all
Within was Stone: they wept, unhappy Boys!
They wept, and first my little dear Anselmo
Cried, Father, why, why do you gaze so sternly?
What would you have? yet wept I not, or answer'd
All that whole Day, or the succeeding Night
Till a new Sun arose with weakly Gleam,
And wan, such as mought entrance find within
That House of Woe. But oh! when I beheld
My Sons, and in four Faces saw my own
Despair reflected, either Hand I gnaw'd
For Anguish, which they construed Hunger; straight
Ariseing all they cried, far less shall be
Our Suffering, Sir, if you resume your Gift;
These miserable Limbs with Flesh you cloath'd;
Take back, what once was yours. I swallow'd down
My struggling Sorrow, nor to heighten theirs:
That Day, and yet another, mute we sate,
And motionless; oh Earth! could'st thou not gape
Quick to devour me? yet a fourth Day came
When Gaddo, at my Feet out-stretch'd, imploreing
In vain my Help, expir'd: e'er the sixth Morn
Had dawn'd, my other three before my Eyes
Died one by one; I saw 'em fall; I heard
Their doleful Cries; for three days more I grop'd