Inferno: Canto V

From the first circle made we our descent
Down to the second, — which, though less in size.
Holds greater grief, that bursts' in loud lament.

Grinding his teeth — there Minos dreadful stands:
The culprits, as they enter in, he tries;
Awards their sentence— issues his commands.

The guilty soul confesses all its crimes,
When brought before him: then the judge decrees
Its proper place in hell: as many times

As he himself encircles with his tail.
Such is the destined number of degrees
The souls are plunged within th' infernal scale.

Crowds ever stand before him, doomed to woe;
All in succession to the judge repair;
They speak — they hear — and then are hurled below,

"O thou, who comest to this sad abode,"
Minos exclaim'd, when he beheld me there.
His dread employ suspending — "mark thy road.

And heed thee well on whom thou dost rely:
Let not the spacious entrance tempt thee on."
To him my guide: "Why makest thou this cry?

Check not his passage, which the fates ordain:
Thus it is will'd where will and power are one;
Therefore submit — nor question us again,"

Proceeding onward, I begin to hear
The melancholy sound of those who weep: —
Now, sharpest. lamentations strike mine ear.

Throughout the place speaks not the light of heaven;
And the vast region bellows loud and deep.
As when o'er ocean warring winds are driven.

Th' infernal blast, unceasing in its course,
Hurries along the miserable crowd.
Whirling and tossing with resistless force.

When they arrive before the brink extreme.
There, shrieks are heard, complaint, and wailing loud;
There, the Almighty Spirit they blaspheme.

Torments like these, I learnt, are here assigned
To carnal sinners, who to appetite
Subject the nobler faculty of mind.

As starlings, ere the winter, in a vast
Innumerable squadron wheel their flight;
So, ever and anon, this sweeping blast.

Now up — now down, — this way, and that again,
Impels the wicked souls:— no comfort springs
From hope of rest, nor e'en of lessened pain.

As chaunting forth their melancholy lay
The clamorous cranes are borne upon their wings.
High marshalling in air their long array;—

Repeating thus their lamentable song,
Afflicted souls approaching I surveyed.
Driven by the dreadful hurricane along.

"O master, tell what race is this," I cried,
Lash'd by the cutting wind?" "The first," he said.
"An empress reign'd o'er nations far and wide.

Her conduct such, that wishing to remove
Disgrace and shame — to wanton luxury prone.
She made her laws all license to approve:

Semiramis her name — who, as they say.
Was Ninus' wife, succeeding to his throne:
That land was her's which owns the Soldan's sway."

Then she, who slew herself for love, is seen,
And to Sichaeus' memory proved untrue.
Lo Cleopatra next, luxurious queen!

Helen I view'd, for whom such years were past
Of toil and woe; the great Achilles too,
With mighty love contending at the last.

Sir Tristram, Paris, and the thousands more
Whom love had slain, he bade me then behold.
Pointing them to me, and recounting o'er.

When I had heard my sage instructor name
Those beauteous dames, and valiant knights of old.
Compassion seized on my bewilder'd frame.

"Fain would I speak, O gracious bard!" I cried,
"With those two shades together flitting there.
Who seem before the wind so light to glide."

Then he to me: "When they approach this way.
Invoke them by that love which brings them here.
And they will speedily thy call obey."

Soon as they come, swept by the hurricane,
I raise my voice: "Turn, O ye souls distrest.
And speak with us, unless some power restrain."

As doves, by strong affection urged, repair
With firm expanded wings to their sweet nest.
Borne by the impulse of their will through air; —

Thus from the band where Dido is, they sped,
Approaching lightly through that region drear;
So strong the appeal to their affection made.

"O thou benign, compassionate, and good,
Who wendest through the lurid atmosphere.
To visit us, that stain'd the earth with blood, —

Were He our friend — heaven's mighty Potentate,
His grace should we implore in prayer for thee.
Who feelest pity for our hapless fate.

Whether to speak or list, make known thy will.
And we will speak or list accordingly.
While, e'en as now, the turbid air is still.

My native place is seated on the coast,
Where Po rolls down his waters to the sea.
And seeks in peace to blend his restless host.

Love, that in noble heart is quickly caught,
Enamour'd him of that fair form — from me
So rudely torn, — there's anguish in the thought.

Love, that permits no loved one not to love,
So ravish'd me to think of pleasing him.
That, as thou see'st, its influence still I prove.

Love caused us both to share one common tomb:
Hell's lowest depth — Caina dark and dim
Awaits our murderer." — Thus she told her doom.

Soon as I heard their wrongs, my head I bent,
Nor from the ground my drooping eyes retire.
Till cried the bard: "On what art thou intent?"

When I could answer him, "Alas!" I said,
"How sweet the thoughts — how ardent the desire
That to the mournful step these lovers led!" —

Then turning to them, in these words I spake:
"Thy wrongs, Francesca, make mine eyes o'erflow
With sorrowing tears, — such pity they awake.

But tell me how, and by what sign confest,
In that sweet time of sighs, love bade ye know
The doubtful passion labouring in each breast?"

And she to me: "There is no greater woe,
Than to remember days of happiness
Amid affliction; — this thy guide doth know.

But if, how love did first our hearts beguile.
Thou fain wouldst hear, I will the truth confess.
As one who tells her tale, and weeps the while.

One day it chanced, for pastime we were reading
How Lancelot to love became a prey;
Alone we were — of evil thoughts unheeding.

Our eyes oft met together as we read;
And from our cheeks the colour died away;
But at one passage we were vanquished.

And when we read of him so deep in love,
Kissing at last the smile long time desired.
Then he, who from my side will ne'er remove.

My lips all trembling kiss'd: — well may I say
That book was Galeot — Galeot he who fired
Its glowing page: — we read no more that day."

While thus one spirit spake, so bitterly
The other wept, that all my senses fled;
A swoon came o'er me as about to die.

And prostrate on the earth I fell, as dead.