Inferno: Canto XXIV

In season of the new year, when the sun
Beneath Aquarius warms again his hair,
And somewhat on the nights the days have won;

When on the ground the hoar-frost painteth fair
A mimic image of her sister white--
But soon her brush of colour is all bare--

The clown, whose fodder is consumed outright,
Rises and looks abroad, and, all the plain
Beholding glisten, on his thigh doth smite.

Returned indoors, like wretch that seeks in vain
What he should do, restless he mourns his case;
But hope revives when, looking forth again,

He sees the earth anew has changed its face.
Then with his crook he doth himself provide,
And straightway doth his sheep to pasture chase:

So at my Master was I terrified,
His brows beholding troubled; nor more slow
To where I ailed the plaster was applied.

For when the broken bridge we stood below
My Guide turned to me with the expression sweet
Which I beneath the mountain learned to know.

His arms he opened, after counsel meet
Held with himself, and, scanning closely o'er
The fragments first, he raised me from my feet;

And like a man who, working, looks before,
With foresight still on that in front bestowed,
Me to the summit of a block he bore

And then to me another fragment showed,
Saying: 'By this thou now must clamber on;
But try it first if it will bear thy load.'

The heavy cowled this way could ne'er have gone,
For hardly we, I holpen, he so light,
Could clamber up from shattered stone to stone.

And but that on the inner bank the height
Of wall is not so great, I say not he,
But for myself I had been vanquished quite.

But Malebolge to the cavity
Of the deep central pit is planned to fall;
Hence every Bolgia in its turn must be

High on the out, low on the inner wall;
So to the summit we attained at last,
Whence breaks away the topmost stone of all.

My lungs were so with breathlessness harassed,
The summit won, I could no further go;
And, hardly there, me on the ground I cast

'Well it befits that thou shouldst from thee throw
All sloth,' the Master said; 'for stretched in down
Or under awnings none can glory know.

And he who spends his life nor wins renown
Leaves in the world no more enduring trace
Than smoke in air, or foam on water blown.

Therefore arise; o'ercome thy breathlessness
By force of will, victor in every fight
When not subservient to the body base.

Of stairs thou yet must climb a loftier flight:
'Tis not enough to have ascended these.
Up then and profit if thou hear'st aright.'

Rising I feigned to breathe with greater ease
Than what I felt, and spake: 'Now forward plod,
For with my courage now my strength agrees.'

Up o'er the rocky rib we held our road;
And rough it was and difficult and strait,
And steeper far than that we earlier trod.

Speaking I went, to hide my wearied state,
When from the neighbouring moat a voice we heard
Which seemed ill fitted to articulate.

Of what it said I knew not any word,
Though on the arch that vaults the moat set high;
But he who spake appeared by anger stirred.

Though I bent downward yet my eager eye,
So dim the depth, explored it all in vain;
I then: 'O Master, to that bank draw nigh,

And let us by the wall descent obtain,
Because I hear and do not understand,
And looking down distinguish nothing plain.'

'My sole reply to thee,' he answered bland,
'Is to perform; for it behoves,' he said,
'With silent act to answer just demand.'

Then we descended from the bridge's head,
Where with the eighth bank is its junction wrought;
And full beneath me was the Bolgia spread.

And I perceived that hideously 'twas fraught
With serpents; and such monstrous forms they bore,
Even now my blood is curdled at the thought.

Henceforth let sandy Libya boast no more!
Though she breed hydra, snake that crawls or flies,
Twy-headed, or fine-speckled, no such store

Of plagues, nor near so cruel, she supplies,
Though joined to all the land of Ethiop,
And that which by the Red Sea waters lies.

'Midst this fell throng and dismal, without hope
A naked people ran, aghast with fear--
No covert for them and no heliotrope.

Their hands were bound by serpents at their rear,
Which in their reins for head and tail did get
A holding-place: in front they knotted were.

And lo! to one who on our side was set
A serpent darted forward, him to bite
At where the neck is by the shoulders met.

Nor O nor I did any ever write
More quickly than he kindled, burst in flame,
And crumbled all to ashes. And when quite

He on the earth a wasted heap became,
The ashes of themselves together rolled,
Resuming suddenly their former frame.

Thus, as by mighty sages we are told,
The Phoenix dies, and then is born again,
When it is close upon five centuries old.

In all its life it eats not herb nor grain,
But only tears that from frankincense flow;
It, for a shroud, sweet nard and myrrh contain.

And as the man who falls and knows not how,
By force of demons stretched upon the ground,
Or by obstruction that makes life run low,

When risen up straight gazes all around
In deep confusion through the anguish keen
He suffered from, and stares with sighs profound:

So was the sinner, when arisen, seen.
Justice of God, how are thy terrors piled,
Showering in vengeance blows thus big with teen!

My Guide then asked of him how he was styled.
Whereon he said: 'From Tuscany I rained,
Not long ago, into this gullet wild.

From bestial life, not human, joy I gained,
Mule that I was; me, Vanni Fucci, brute,
Pistoia, fitting den, in life contained.'

I to my Guide: 'Bid him not budge a foot,
And ask what crime has plunged him here below.
In rage and blood I knew him dissolute.'

The sinner heard, nor insincere did show,
But towards me turned his face and eke his mind,
With spiteful shame his features all aglow;

Then said: 'It pains me more thou shouldst me find
And catch me steeped in all this misery,
Than when the other life I left behind.

What thou demandest I can not deny:
I'm plunged thus low because the thief I played
Within the fairly furnished sacristy;

And falsely to another's charge 'twas laid.
Lest thou shouldst joy such sight has met thy view
If e'er these dreary regions thou evade,

Give ear and hearken to my utterance true:
The Neri first out of Pistoia fail,
Her laws and parties Florence shapes anew;

Mars draws a vapour out of Magra's vale,
Which black and threatening clouds accompany:
Then bursting in a tempest terrible

Upon Piceno shall the war run high;
The mist by it shall suddenly be rent,
And every Bianco smitten be thereby:

And I have told thee that thou mayst lament.'