"If I did think my answer were to one,

Who ever could return unto the world,

This flame should rest unshaken. But since ne'er,

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If true be told me, any from this depth

Has found his upward way, I answer thee,

Nor fear lest infamy record the words.

"A man of arms at first, I cloth'd me then

In good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so

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T' have made amends. And certainly my hope

Had fail'd not, but that he, whom curses light on,

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The' high priest again seduc'd me into sin.
And how and wherefore listen while I tell.
Long as this spirit mov'd the bones and pulp
My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake
The nature of the lion than the fox.
All ways of winding subtlety I knew,
And with such art conducted, that the sound
Reach'd the world's limit. Soon as to that part
Of life I found me come, when each behoves
To lower sails and gather in the lines;
That which before had pleased me then I rued,
And to repentance and confession turn'd;
Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me!
The chief of the new Pharisees meantime,
Waging his warfare near the Lateran,
Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes
All Christians were, nor against Acre one

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Had fought, nor traffic'd in the Soldan's land),

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He his great charge nor sacred ministry

In himself, rev'renc'd, nor in me that cord,

Which us'd to mark with leanness whom it girded.

As in Socrate, Constantine besought

To cure his leprosy Sylvester's aid,

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So me to cure the fever of his pride

This man besought: my counsel to that end

He ask'd and I was silent: for his words

Seem'd drunken: but forthwith he thus resum'd:

'From thy heart banish fear: of all offence

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I hitherto absolve thee. In return,

Teach me my purpose so to execute,

'That Penestrino cumber earth no more.
'Heav'n, as thou knowest, I have power to shut
'And open and the keys are therefore twain,
"The which my predecessor meanly priz'd.'

"Then, yielding to the forceful arguments, Of silence as more perilous I deem'd,

And answer'd: Father! since thou washest me 'Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall,

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Large promise with performance scant, be sure,
Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'

"When I was number'd with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark

He met, who cried: Wrong me not; he is mine,

'And must below to join the wretched crew,

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'For the deceitful counsel which he gave.

'E'er since I watch'd him, hov'ring at his hair,

'No power can the impenitent absolve;

'Nor to repent and will at once consist,

'By contradiction absolute forbid.'

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Oh mis'ry! how I shook myself, when he

Seiz'd me, and cried, 'Thou haply thought'st me not

'A disputant in logic so exact.'

To Minos down he bore me, and the judge

Twin'd eight times round his callous back the tail,

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Which biting with excess of rage, he spake :
This is a guilty soul, that in the fire

'Must vanish.' Hence perdition-doom'd I rove

A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb."

When he had thus fulfill'd his words, the flame

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In dolour parted, beating to and fro,

And writhing its sharp horn. We onward went,
I and my leader, up along the rock,
Far as another arch, that overhangs

The foss, wherein the penalty is paid

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Of those, who load them with committed sin.

CANTO XXVIII.

WHO, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at full
Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw,

Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue
So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought
Both impotent alike. If in one band
Collected, stood the people all, who e'er
Pour'd on Apulia's happy soil their blood,
Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war
When of the rings the measur'd booty made
A pile so high, as Rome's historian writes
Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt
The grinding force of Guiscard's Norman steel,
And those the rest, whose bones are gather'd yet
At Ceperano, there where treachery

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Branded th' Apulian name, or where beyond

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Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms

The old Alardo conquer'd; and his limbs

One were to show transpierc'd, another his
Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this

Were but a thing of nought, to the' hideous sight

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Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost
Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide,
As one I mark'd, torn from the chin throughout
Down to the hinder passage: 'twixt the legs
Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay
Open to view, and wretched ventricle,
That turns th' englutted aliment to dross.
Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze,

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He ey'd me, with his hands laid his breast bare,

And cried; "Now mark how I do rip me! lo!

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How is Mohammed mangled! before me

Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face
Cleft to the forelock; and the others all

Whom here thou seest, while they liv'd, did sow
Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent.
A fiend is here behind, who with his sword
Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again

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Each of this ream, when we have compast round

The dismal way, for first our gashes close

Ere we repass before him. But say who

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Art thou, that standest musing on the rock,
Haply so lingering to delay the pain

Sentenc'd upon thy crimes?".

"Him death not yet,"

My guide rejoin'd, "hath overta'en, nor sin
Conducts to torment; but, that he may make
Full trial of your state, I who am dead
Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb,
Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true."

More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard,
Stood in the foss to mark me, through amaze
Forgetful of their pangs. "Thou, who perchance
Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou
Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not
Here soon to follow me, that with good store
Of food he arm him, lest impris'ning snows
Yield him a victim to Novara's power,
No easy conquest else." With foot uprais'd
For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground

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Then fix'd it to depart. Another shade,

Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilate

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E'en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear

Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood

Gazing, before the rest advanc'd, and bar'd

His wind-pipe, that without was all o'ersmear'd

With crimson stain. "O thou!" said he, "whom sin 65
Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near
Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft

Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind
Piero of Medicina, if again

Returning, thou behold'st the pleasant land

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That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;

And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts

Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo,

That if 't is giv'n us here to scan aright

The future, they out of life's tenement

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Shall be cast forth, and whelm'd under the waves

Near to Cattolica, through perfidy

Of a fell tyrant. 'Twixt the Cyprian isle

And Balearic, ne'er hath Neptune seen

An injury so foul, by pirates done

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Or Argive crew of old. That one-ey'd traitor (Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain

His eye had still lack'd sight of) them shall bring
To conf'rence with him, then so shape his end,
That they shall need not 'gainst Focara's wind
Offer up vow nor pray'r." I answering thus:
"Declare, as thou dost wish that I above

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May carry tidings of thee, who is he,

In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?" Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone

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Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws

Expanding, cried: "Lo! this is he I wot of;

Then one

He speaks not for himself: the outcast this
Who overwhelm'd the doubt in Cæsar's mind,
Affirming that delay to men prepar'd
Was ever harmful." Oh! how terrified
Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut
The tongue, which spake that hardy word.
Maim'd of each hand, uplifted in the gloom
The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots
Sullied his face, and cried: "Remember thee
Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim'd,
'The deed once done there is an end,' that prov'd
A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race."

I added: 66
Ay, and death to thine own tribe."
Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off,
As one grief stung to madness. But I there
Still linger'd to behold the troop, and saw
Things, such as I may fear without more proof
To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm,
The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate
Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within
And bids him on and fear not. Without doubt
I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me,
A headless trunk, that even as the rest
Of the sad flock pac'd onward. By the hair
It bore the sever'd member, lantern-wise
Pendent in hand, which look'd at us and said,
"Woe's me!" The spirit lighted thus himself,
And two there were in one, and one in two.
How that may be he knows who ordereth so.
When at the bridge's foot direct he stood,

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