Inferno: Canto XXIII

Silent and slow our lonely path we trod.
The one before, the other close behind.
Like minor friars proceeding on their road.

On Æsop's fable were my thoughts employ'd, —
How (this encounter brought it to my mind,)
The frog and mouse were by the kite destroyed.

For greater likeness bear not yes and yea.
Than, if attentively compared they be.
From first to last these scenes of strife display.

As from one thought another oft will start.
So rose from this another presently.
Which with redoubled terror fill'd my heart.

For I considered: — Mock'd and taunted thus —
And we the cause;— full surely they have ground
To feel annoy, and will be wroth with us.

If to ill-will be added rage, I fear
They will pursue, more vengeful than the hound
Who gripes within his teeth some timid hare.

E'en now my locks stood bristling with affright,
As I intently listened in the rear;
"O master," I exclaim'd: "the demon's spite

Fills me with dread, unless thou canst conceal
Thyself and me; behold! they now are near,
And I already seem their hooks to feel."

"Were I a mirror, not thine outward face
Should I," he said, "more speedily receive.
Than doth my soul thy inward wish embrace.

Thy thought e'en now assimilates to mine.
And so alike th' expression which they give.
That I from both have form'd the same design.

If on the right, the bank is so inclined,
That to the chasm adjoining we may hie.
This fancied chase we soon shall leave behind."

Scarce had he time his counsel to suggest.
Ere I beheld the fiends approaching nigh.
With wings outspread, our: progress to arrest.

In haste my leader caught me in his arm,
Like to a mother waken'd by a cry,
Who seeing flames around her — in alarm

Seizes her son, intent on flight alone.
Caring for him much more than for herself —
Around her but a single garment thrown.

Down from the summit of the rocky bank
Supine he cast him to that pendent shelf.
Which to the next partition form'd a flank.

So quickly never water urged its course
To turn a mill, in narrow sluice compress'd.
Where nearest to the spokes it rolls with force, —

As o'er that ridge my master hasten'd on,
Clasping me closely to his sheltering breast.
Not as a comrade, but a darling son.

Scarce had his feet attain'd the rocky bed.
When on the height above, to sight confest.
The fiends appeared; but nought had we to dread.

For that supreme omniscient Providence,
Which gave the fifth partition to their sway.
Forbade them ever to depart from thence.

Pacing around with weary steps and slow,
A painted tribe of spirits I survey.
Whose haggard looks express fatigue and woe.

Cloaks had they on, with hoods which reached low down
Before their eyes, like those in fashion made,
Worn by the cloister'd brethren at Cologne.

Outside — with dazzling gold they glitter'd bright;
Inside — so lined were they with ponderous lead.
That Frederick's cloaks compared to them were light:

cumbersome to all eternity!
Still on the left with them we took our road.
Intent upon their hopeless misery;

But they so slowly did their way pursue,
Opprest beneath th' insufferable load.
That at each step our company was new.

Wherefore I said; "O master, look around,
And point out some one in this realm of pain.
Whom I may know, by deeds or name renown'd."

Then of my Tuscan language one aware
Behind us cried: "Your steps awhile restrain,
O ye who hurry through the dusky air: —

Perhaps from me thou may'st obtain thy need."
On which my master turn'd, and said to me:
"Pause, and henceforward at his pace proceed."

I paused, and two I saw, whose visage show'd
Excessive eagerness with me to be,
But the weight hinder'd, and the narrow road.

When they arrived, they eyed me with a look
Askance, and full of wonder, silently;
Then turning, one the other thus bespoke.

"He by the action of his throat appears
Alive; if dead — what privilege has he,
That as he walks no weighty robe he bears?"

"O Tuscan, thou who comest," they exclaim,
"To this sad college of hypocrisy.
Deign to inform us what may be thy name."

I answered: "At that city was I born
Laved by fair Arno as she floweth by;
And this the body I have always worn.

But who are ye, whose grief adown your cheeks
Flows, as I see, with so profuse a tide?
And what affliction thus a passage seeks?"

"So overwhelming is the ponderous lead.
Which lines our orange mantles," one replied,
"That sighs burst hissing from the o'erbalanc'd head.

We both were from Bologna, joyous friars,
I Catalano, Loderingo he, —
Elected by your country for umpires.

As some unbiass'd man is by the state
Oft chosen to keep peace; — and such were we.
As round Gardingo may be witnessed yet."

"Friars," I began, "your vile hypocrisies"...
But check'd myself; for lo! one crucified.
And staked to earth, appear'd before my eyes.

On seeing me, throughout his frame he writhed: —
Friar Catalan, who straight his plight descried.
As through his beard with many a sigh he breath'd,

Exclaim'd: "Before thee lies transfix'd, the shade
Who counsel gave, that for the people's weal
It was expedient one to death be led.

Prostrate he lies and naked on the road.
As thou behold'st, and 'tis his fate to feel
Each traveller's weight, and groan beneath the load.

In the same ditch his Father Annas lies,
And all the rest who of that counsel were.
Which to the Jews caused such calamities."

Then saw I Virgil marvelling awhile.
To see him stretch'd so despicably there.
And doom'd for ever to such base exile.

Next of the friar he sought intelligence:
"Unless ye are forbidden — tell," he said,
If on the right lies any opening hence.

By which we both in safety may retire.
And leave the baleful pit, nor ought of aid
From the black angels on our road require?"

He answer'd him: "More near than you suppose,
From the main circle juts a rocky bridge.
Whose arch o'er all the deep entrenchment goes:

Here it is broken, and no passage lends:
But ye may clamber o'er its ruin'd ridge.
Which in a heap above the foss extends."

With head inclined, awhile my leader stood,
Then said: "Ill did he answer to our need.
Who with his hooks there rends the sinful crowd."

To him the friar: "Much of the devil's vice
I at Bologna heard; — and this indeed —
'He is a liar, and father of all lies.' "

With mighty strides my guide indignant sped,
Anger depicted somewhat on his face:
Wherefore I left these souls oppress'd by lead.

The much loved footsteps of my guide to trace.