So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth, For which thou fearedst not in guile to take The lovely lady, and then mangle her?"
I felt as those who, piercing not the drift Of answer made them, stand as if expos'd In mockery, nor know what to reply,
When Virgil thus admonish'd: "Tell him quick, I am not he, not he, whom thou believ'st."
And I, as was enjoin'd me, straight replied. That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet, And sighing next in woeful accent spake : "What then of me requirest? If to know So much imports thee, who I am, that thou
Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn
That in the mighty mantle I was rob'd, And of a she-bear was indeed the son,
So eager to advance my whelps, that there My having in my purse above I stow'd,
And here myself. Under my head are dragg'd
The rest, my predecessors in the guilt
Of simony. Stretch'd at their length they lie
Along an opening in the rock. 'Midst them I also low shall fall, soon as he comes, For whom I took thee, when so hastily I question'd. But already longer time
Hath pass'd, since my souls kindled, and I thus Upturn'd have stood, than is his doom to stand Planted with fiery feet. For after him, One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive, From forth the west, a shepherd without law, Fated to cover both his form and mine. He a new Jason shall be call'd, of whom In Maccabees we read; and favour such As to that priest his king indulgent show'd, Shall be of France's monarch shown to him.” I know not if I here too far presum'd, But in this strain I answer'd: "Tell me now, What treasures from St. Peter at the first Our Lord demanded, when he put the keys Into his charge? Surely he ask'd no more
But, Follow me!' Nor Peter nor the rest Or gold or silver of Matthias took, When lots were cast upon the forfeit place Of the condemned soul. Abide thou then; Thy punishment of right is merited: And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin, Which against Charles thy hardihood inspir'd. If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not, Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet Severer speech might use. Your avarice O'ercasts the world with mourning, under foot Treading the good, and raising bad men up. Of shepherds, like to you, th' Evangelist Was ware, when her, who sits upon the waves, With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld, She who with seven heads tower'd at her birth, And from ten horns her proof of glory drew, Long as her spouse in virtue took delight. Of gold and silver ye have made your god, Diff'ring wherein from the idolater,
But he that worships one, a hundred ye?
Ah, Constantine! to how much ill gave birth,
Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower,
Which the first wealthy Father gain'd from thee!" Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrath Or conscience smote him, violent upsprang Spinning on either sole. I do believe
My teacher well was pleas'd, with so compos'd A lip, he listen'd ever to the sound Of the true words I utter'd.
He caught, and to his bosom lifting me
Upward retrac'd the way of his descent.
Nor weary of his weight he press'd me close, Till to the summit of the rock we came, Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier. His cherish'd burden there gently he plac'd Upon the rugged rock and steep, a path Not easy for the clamb'ring goat to mount.
Thence to my view another vale appear'd.
AND now the verse proceeds to torments new, Fit argument of this the twentieth strain
Of the first song, whose awful theme records The spirits whelm'd in woe. Earnest I look'd Into the depth, that open'd to my view, Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheld A tribe, that came along the hollow vale, In silence weeping: such their step as walk Quires chanting solemn litanies on earth.
As on them more direct mine eye descends, Each wonderously seem'd to be revers'd At the neck-bone, so that the countenance Was from the reins averted and because
None might before him look, they were compell'd
To' advance with backward gait. Thus one perhaps 15 Hath been by force of palsy clean transpos'd, But I ne'er saw it nor believe it so.
Now, reader! think within thyself, so God Fruit of thy reading give thee! how I long Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld Near me our form distorted in such guise, That on the hinder parts fall'n from the face The tears down-streaming roll'd. Against a rock I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim'd: "What, and art thou too witless as the rest?
Here pity most doth show herself alive,
When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his,
Who with Heaven's judgment in his passion strives? Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the man,
Before whose eyes earth gap'd in Thebes, when all
'Why leavest thou the war?' He not the less Fell ruining far as to Minos down,
Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makes The breast his shoulders, and who once too far Before him wish'd to see, now backward looks, And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note, Who semblance chang'd, when woman he became
Of male, through every limb transform'd, and then Once more behov'd him with his rod to strike The two entwining serpents, ere the plumes, That mark'd the better sex, might shoot again. "Aruns, with rere his belly facing, comes. On Luni's mountains 'midst the marbles white, Where delves Carrara's hind, who wons beneath, A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars And main-sea wide in boundless view he held. "The next, whose loosen'd tresses overspread Her bosom, which thou seest not (for each hair On that side grows) was Manto, she who search'd Through many regions, and at length her seat Fix'd in my native land, whence a short space My words detain thy audience. When her sire From life departed, and in servitude
The city dedicate to Bacchus mourn'd,
Long time she went a wand'rer through the world. Aloft in Italy's delightful land
A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp,
That o'er the Tyrol locks Germania in, Its name Benacus, which a thousand rills, Methinks, and more, water between the vale Camonica and Garda and the height Of Apennine remote. There is a spot At midway of that lake, where he who bears Of Trento's flock the past'ral staff, with him Of Brescia, and the Veronese, might each Passing that way his benediction give.
A garrison of goodly site and strong
Peschiera stands, to awe with front oppos'd
The Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shore
More slope each way descends. There, whatsoev'er
Benacus' bosom holds not, tumbling o'er
Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath
Through the green pastures. Soon as in his course
The steam makes head, Benacus then no more
They call the name, but Mincius, till at last Reaching Governo into Po he falls.
Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat
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