Inferno: Canto XXV

His speech being ended, then that thief did raise
His hands with thumbs thrust out in scornful guise,
Crying, " Take this, God; Thine be this dispraise."

Then looked I on the snakes with friendly eyes,
For one around his neck itself entwined,
As if it said, " No more of such replies."

Another came and both his arms did bind.
So tightly curling round in front, that he
No power to make a single turn could find.

Ah me! Pistoia, why not make decree"
To burn thyself to dust and disappear.
Since thou in guilt excell'st thine ancestry?

In all Hell's many circles dark and drear,
No spirit saw I against God so proud,
Not he who fell from walls that Thebes did rear.

He fled, nor spake another word aloud.
And then I saw a Centaur with fierce din
Crying out, ' What region doth this scorner shroud?''

Maremma's self doth no such treasure win,
I trow, of snakes as he had on his back,
As far as where man's visage doth begin.

Over his shoulders, at the neck-bone's rack,
A dragon lay, with fiery wings outspread.
And sets ablaze whoever him attack.

"There standeth Cacus," then my Master said,
"Who 'neath the rocky crag of Aventine
Made many a pool with blood that he had shed.

Not with his brothers moves he in one line,
By reason of his subtle robbery.
When they were near him, of the herd of kine,

And so he ceased his tortuous trade to ply
Beneath the club of Hercules, and he
Of fivescore strokes scarce ten felt consciously."

And while he spake, far off did Cacus flee;
And spirits, three in number, 'neath us came,
Whom neither I nor yet my Guide did see.

Till "Who arc ye?" they loudly did exclaim.
And so my Leader ceased his tale to tell.
And they sole objects of our heed became.

I knew them not, but then it so befell,
As often follows, should some chance betray,
That one was forced the other's name to tell,

Crying out, "Where can Cianfa then delay?"
And thereon I, to make my Guide give heed.
My finger betwixt chin and nose did lay.

If thou art slow to credit, who dost read,
What I shall tell, no marvel will it be.
For scarce I trust it, though I saw the deed.

As I upon them turned mine eyes to see,
A serpent with six feet itself did throw
Straight before one, and bound him utterly;

Around his belly its mid-feet did go.
And with its front ones it his arms did bind;
Then on each cheek its teeth wrought cruel woe;

Upon his thighs it stretched the feet behind,
And 'twixt the two it twisted round its tail.
And backward on the reins its folds entwined;

Never so close did ivy tree assail
With tiny fangs, as that beast horrible
Did on the other's limbs its own impale.

Then, as of hot wax made, they blended well,
And each took somewhat of the other's hue;
With neither did its former fashion dwell.

As from before the flame that scorches through
Upon the paper creeps a tint of brown,
White dead and gone, and yet the black not true.

The other two upon the sight looked down.
Each crying, " Agnello, what a change is thine
Lo! nor as two nor yet as one thou'rt shown."

Already did the two heads so combine,
When the two faces melted into one.
And lost in each was every feature's line.

Of the four lengths of limb two arms were grown,
The thighs and legs, the belly and the trunk,
Such limbs became as never yet were known.

All trace of former features now was sunk;
The form transformed, as neither, yet as twain,
Appeared, and slowly from our gaze it shrunk.

As when a lizard, 'neath the fiery reign
O the dogdays, seeks to change its hedgerow bourne,
It seems like lightning to dart o'er the plain.

So came there then, as to the paunches borne
Of the other two, a snake of fiery wrath,
Livid and black as any peppercorn.

And at that part where first our body hath
Its nourishment, pierced one of them right through,
Then swelling, fell before him on the path.

The pierced one gazed, but no speech did ensue,
But with fixed feet he gaping face did show,
As though or sleep or fever's stroke he knew.

He on the serpent, it on him did throw
Fixed gaze, it from its mouth, he from his wound.
Smoked forth, the smoke clouds mingling in their flow.

Let Lucan now be silent, where is found
How poor Sabellus and Nassidius fell,
And let him list what from my bow shall sound.

Let Ovid cease of Arethuse to tell
And Cadmus; though he change her to a spring,
And him to snake, I grudge him not his spell.

Two natures face to face he could not bring
Transmuted thus, so that on either side
Forms quickly changed their bodies' fashioning.

Each with the other in such manner vied.
That the snake parted into twain its tail;
The wounded man's feet were together tied,

Nor did to legs and thighs like union fail.
So that in little time appeared no trace
Of juncture, of that change to tell the tale.

The cloven tail assumed the shape and space
The other lost, and that one's skin became
Hard, while to this there came a softer grace.

I saw the arms drawn up at the armpits' frame,
And its two feet, of scanty length before.
Were stretched as his to less dimensions came;

And the hind-feet, entwisted more and more,"
Became the member that a man conceals.
And the poor wretch for his, two members bore.

Then from the smoke o'er this and that one steals
New tint, and clothes the one with hair all new
While from the other all the hair it peels.

As one rose up, the other downward drew,
Yet those malignant lamps they laid not by,
'Neath which each face into the other grew;

He who stood drew it to the temples high.
And out of the excess of substance there"
Came forth the ears where simple cheeks did lie;

What drew not back but as before did fare
Made for the face from that excess a nose,
And bade the lips their proper thickness wear.

He who lay flat his features forward throws,
And both his ears withdraws within his head,
Just as the snail doth with the horns he shows;

His tongue, once fit the sounds of speech to shed,
Single in form, now split, while into one fled.
The forked tongue came, and then the smoke had

The soul that into bestial shape had grown
Sped through the valley, hissing as it went;
The other, spitting as it spake, passed on.

Then his new shoulders turned he, forward bent.
And to the other said, "Let Buoso speed,
Crawling, like me, along this pit's extent."

So that seventh rubbish lot saw I indeed
Change and rechange: and if my pen doth stray
A little, let the strangeness for me plead.

And though upon mine eyes strange wonder lay
And my mind wandered, yet they could not flee
So hidden from me, as they went their way.

But I Sciancato Puccio did see.
And he alone remained unaltered still
Of those who erst came on, companions three;

The other he whom thou dost weep, Gaville.