CANTO XIII.
Argument.
Second Zone of the Seventh Circle; the suicides, changed into trees, and tormented by the Harpies. — Pier della Vigne, Chancellor of Frederick II.
N OT yet had Nessus gain'd the further bound,
When we drew near, upon the darksome shore,
To a dim wood wherein no path is found.
Not verdure bright, but dusky hues it wore,
Not branches smooth, but gnarl'd in many a knot;
Nor fruits, but sharp and pois'nous thorns it bore.
Less tangled dens 'twixt Cecina are sought
And one Corneto, by wild beasts that rest
In the thick wood, and shun each cultured spot:
And here the hideous Harpies have their nest,
Who chased the Trojans from the Strophadis,
With dread announcement of a fate unblest.
Great wings they have, and necks and visages
Of human semblance; feet with claws; and vile
Their feather'd bulk: and aye on those strange trees
They mourn. Then Virgil: " Ere this sad defile
Thou enterest more, take heed and understand
That in the second zone thou art, the while
Thou journeyest onward to the dreadful sand:
What thou beholdest here shall plainly show
The truth which doth within my sermon stand. "
On every side I heard the voice of woe,
And yet of those who mournid saw I nought;
Thus, in surprise, no further did I go.
In very truth, I think he thought I thought
That mid the branches came those cries of grief
From some who there from us a refuge sought.
Therefore my Master said: " If thou a leaf
Wilt break from those wherewith yon trees are spread,
'Twill cause the thought within thee to be brief. "
Towards the foliage then my hand I sped,
And pluck'd a branchlet from a lofty thorn:
Then " Wherefore dost thou tear me thus? " it said.
And dark'ning with red blood where it was torn,
" Why work'st me woe? " again did it begin;
" Within thee is no thought of pity worn?
Once we were men; now are we trees, I ween:
And thee more gentleness might well inspire,
Although the souls of serpents we had been. "
Even as the brand yet green, when in the fire
One end is cast, the other groans, and still
With hissing noise the moisture doth transpire;
Thus did the splintered stem the same fulfil,
And words and blood gush'd forth: then from my hand
I cast the branch, as one who fears some ill.
" O wounded soul, if he might understand
From my discourse alone " (thus Virgil said)
" The manner of the woe within your land,
More sorrow upon thee he had not laid:
But so incredible appear'd this thing,
That, to a deed which on my spirit weigh'd,
I led him. Now, if he to thee may bring
Some healing, say who, when on earth, thou wert;
Thus there again thy fame may freshly spring. "
Then spake the stem: " Thou lur'st with such sweet art,
I needs must speak; then let it not displease
If at some length my story I impart.
Know, I am he who erst held both the keys
Of Frederick's heart; and I so well had learn'd
To lock it and unlock it with soft ease,
All others from his confidence I turn'd.
Such faith to that proud office did I hold,
Thence lost I life: for she whose glances burn'd,
On Caesar's dwelling still intent, the bold
Vile harlot who in sooth is common death
And the great vice of courts, 'gainst me enroll'd
The minds of all, with fiercely glowing wrath;
And they, in anger, anger'd my august
Imperial master, till in sorrow's breath
My joyous honours pass'd. Disdain's proud gust,
Thinking in death e'en from disdain to flee,
Made me unjust 'gainst me who still was just.
I swear by the new roots of this strange tree,
That ne'er the trusting faith did I betray
Of my much honour'd master. And if ye
Ascend once more unto the land of day,
Restore thou my fair fame that lieth low,
Struck by the envy which did erst me slay. "
Pausing, no further his discourse did go;
Then said the Poet: " Lose not thou this hour;
But speak, and ask him all that thou wouldst know. "
And thus I answer'd: " Ask thou of him more,
Of what thou deem'st may satisfy my need;
For on my heart doth pity weigh too sore. "
Again he spake on this wise: " If indeed
Thou wouldst this man should freely grant thy prayer,
Incarcerated spirit, let his meed
Be this; that unto him thy speech declare
How in these gnarlid boughs a soul may lie;
And say if any from their bonds can e'er
Escape. " And now the stem a heavy sigh
Sent forth; then words the mournful breath did pierce:
" Briefly to your demand I make reply.
Know, in the moment when the spirit fierce
Parts from the body which itself hath torn,
The dread command of Minos doth immerse
The Shade in this abyss. Then is it borne
As fortune wills, nor hath it power of choice,
Springs where it falls, as doth a grain of corn,
And as a woodland plant doth it arise;
And aye the Harpies, feeding on its leaves,
Do cause it pain, and give that pain a voice.
Each one again his earthly garb receives,
As others; yet therewith we are not clad:
The thing whereof a man himself bereaves
Is given to him no more. But through the sad
Dark wood our bodies shall we drag, and here
Hang every corpse beneath its thorn's own shade. "
Intently listening, still we stood anear
The trunk, expecting that it somewhat more
Should speak; when lo! there burst upon mine ear
A sound as when ye hear the hunted boar,
Chas'd by the dogs, rush through the tangled wood,
With crash of breaking boughs. And from the shore,
At the left hand, came two all stain'd with blood,
And naked, flying wildly from the chase;
And, all around, the broken boughs were strew'd.
" Come now, O Death! " he shriek'd who led the race;
The other, deeming his own speed too slow,
Cried " Lano, thou didst move with duller pace,
At Toppo's joust, of yore. " And then, as though
Perchance for lack of breath, he sought to gain.
A tangled bush, and mid its leaves lay low.
Behind him, through the forest came a train.
Of fierce and hungry dogs of blackest hue,
Running as greyhounds loosen'd from the chain.
They with their teeth the crouching form pierced through,
And shred from shred in savage fierceness tore;
And through the wood the anguish'd limbs they drew.
Then my good Master took my hand once more,
And led me to the bush, that, all in vain,
Wept through its bloody, gaping wounds full sore.
" O Jacopo da Sant' Andrea, " then
It said, " what shelter hast thou found in me?
What guilt is mine, of all the sins which stain
Thy life? " When Virgil had drawn near, then he
Thus spake: " Who wert thou, that by many a wound
Breath'st forth thy words with blood so dolorously? "
And he to us: " O souls, who to this bound
Have come to see the miserable strife
Which my sad leaves has scatter'd all around,
Lay them beneath my stem. I dwelt, in life,
Within the town which for the Baptist's sway
Changed its first patron; whence it still is rife
With the sore ills his art doth on it lay:
And were't not that on Arno doth remain
Of him some relics even unto this day,
Those citizens who founded it again,
Above the cinders Attila had left,
Of certainty had labour'd all in vain. —
Self-strangled in my house was I of life bereft. "
Argument.
Second Zone of the Seventh Circle; the suicides, changed into trees, and tormented by the Harpies. — Pier della Vigne, Chancellor of Frederick II.
N OT yet had Nessus gain'd the further bound,
When we drew near, upon the darksome shore,
To a dim wood wherein no path is found.
Not verdure bright, but dusky hues it wore,
Not branches smooth, but gnarl'd in many a knot;
Nor fruits, but sharp and pois'nous thorns it bore.
Less tangled dens 'twixt Cecina are sought
And one Corneto, by wild beasts that rest
In the thick wood, and shun each cultured spot:
And here the hideous Harpies have their nest,
Who chased the Trojans from the Strophadis,
With dread announcement of a fate unblest.
Great wings they have, and necks and visages
Of human semblance; feet with claws; and vile
Their feather'd bulk: and aye on those strange trees
They mourn. Then Virgil: " Ere this sad defile
Thou enterest more, take heed and understand
That in the second zone thou art, the while
Thou journeyest onward to the dreadful sand:
What thou beholdest here shall plainly show
The truth which doth within my sermon stand. "
On every side I heard the voice of woe,
And yet of those who mournid saw I nought;
Thus, in surprise, no further did I go.
In very truth, I think he thought I thought
That mid the branches came those cries of grief
From some who there from us a refuge sought.
Therefore my Master said: " If thou a leaf
Wilt break from those wherewith yon trees are spread,
'Twill cause the thought within thee to be brief. "
Towards the foliage then my hand I sped,
And pluck'd a branchlet from a lofty thorn:
Then " Wherefore dost thou tear me thus? " it said.
And dark'ning with red blood where it was torn,
" Why work'st me woe? " again did it begin;
" Within thee is no thought of pity worn?
Once we were men; now are we trees, I ween:
And thee more gentleness might well inspire,
Although the souls of serpents we had been. "
Even as the brand yet green, when in the fire
One end is cast, the other groans, and still
With hissing noise the moisture doth transpire;
Thus did the splintered stem the same fulfil,
And words and blood gush'd forth: then from my hand
I cast the branch, as one who fears some ill.
" O wounded soul, if he might understand
From my discourse alone " (thus Virgil said)
" The manner of the woe within your land,
More sorrow upon thee he had not laid:
But so incredible appear'd this thing,
That, to a deed which on my spirit weigh'd,
I led him. Now, if he to thee may bring
Some healing, say who, when on earth, thou wert;
Thus there again thy fame may freshly spring. "
Then spake the stem: " Thou lur'st with such sweet art,
I needs must speak; then let it not displease
If at some length my story I impart.
Know, I am he who erst held both the keys
Of Frederick's heart; and I so well had learn'd
To lock it and unlock it with soft ease,
All others from his confidence I turn'd.
Such faith to that proud office did I hold,
Thence lost I life: for she whose glances burn'd,
On Caesar's dwelling still intent, the bold
Vile harlot who in sooth is common death
And the great vice of courts, 'gainst me enroll'd
The minds of all, with fiercely glowing wrath;
And they, in anger, anger'd my august
Imperial master, till in sorrow's breath
My joyous honours pass'd. Disdain's proud gust,
Thinking in death e'en from disdain to flee,
Made me unjust 'gainst me who still was just.
I swear by the new roots of this strange tree,
That ne'er the trusting faith did I betray
Of my much honour'd master. And if ye
Ascend once more unto the land of day,
Restore thou my fair fame that lieth low,
Struck by the envy which did erst me slay. "
Pausing, no further his discourse did go;
Then said the Poet: " Lose not thou this hour;
But speak, and ask him all that thou wouldst know. "
And thus I answer'd: " Ask thou of him more,
Of what thou deem'st may satisfy my need;
For on my heart doth pity weigh too sore. "
Again he spake on this wise: " If indeed
Thou wouldst this man should freely grant thy prayer,
Incarcerated spirit, let his meed
Be this; that unto him thy speech declare
How in these gnarlid boughs a soul may lie;
And say if any from their bonds can e'er
Escape. " And now the stem a heavy sigh
Sent forth; then words the mournful breath did pierce:
" Briefly to your demand I make reply.
Know, in the moment when the spirit fierce
Parts from the body which itself hath torn,
The dread command of Minos doth immerse
The Shade in this abyss. Then is it borne
As fortune wills, nor hath it power of choice,
Springs where it falls, as doth a grain of corn,
And as a woodland plant doth it arise;
And aye the Harpies, feeding on its leaves,
Do cause it pain, and give that pain a voice.
Each one again his earthly garb receives,
As others; yet therewith we are not clad:
The thing whereof a man himself bereaves
Is given to him no more. But through the sad
Dark wood our bodies shall we drag, and here
Hang every corpse beneath its thorn's own shade. "
Intently listening, still we stood anear
The trunk, expecting that it somewhat more
Should speak; when lo! there burst upon mine ear
A sound as when ye hear the hunted boar,
Chas'd by the dogs, rush through the tangled wood,
With crash of breaking boughs. And from the shore,
At the left hand, came two all stain'd with blood,
And naked, flying wildly from the chase;
And, all around, the broken boughs were strew'd.
" Come now, O Death! " he shriek'd who led the race;
The other, deeming his own speed too slow,
Cried " Lano, thou didst move with duller pace,
At Toppo's joust, of yore. " And then, as though
Perchance for lack of breath, he sought to gain.
A tangled bush, and mid its leaves lay low.
Behind him, through the forest came a train.
Of fierce and hungry dogs of blackest hue,
Running as greyhounds loosen'd from the chain.
They with their teeth the crouching form pierced through,
And shred from shred in savage fierceness tore;
And through the wood the anguish'd limbs they drew.
Then my good Master took my hand once more,
And led me to the bush, that, all in vain,
Wept through its bloody, gaping wounds full sore.
" O Jacopo da Sant' Andrea, " then
It said, " what shelter hast thou found in me?
What guilt is mine, of all the sins which stain
Thy life? " When Virgil had drawn near, then he
Thus spake: " Who wert thou, that by many a wound
Breath'st forth thy words with blood so dolorously? "
And he to us: " O souls, who to this bound
Have come to see the miserable strife
Which my sad leaves has scatter'd all around,
Lay them beneath my stem. I dwelt, in life,
Within the town which for the Baptist's sway
Changed its first patron; whence it still is rife
With the sore ills his art doth on it lay:
And were't not that on Arno doth remain
Of him some relics even unto this day,
Those citizens who founded it again,
Above the cinders Attila had left,
Of certainty had labour'd all in vain. —
Self-strangled in my house was I of life bereft. "