Classic Poem

CANTO VII.

Argument.

Fourth Circle; the spendthrifts and the avaricious. Fifth Circle; the wrathful, and the sullen slothful.

" P APË Satan, papi Satan, aleppi! "
Thus Pluto now began with hoarsest voice;
And the good Sage, who knew what all things be,
Said as to comfort me: " Let not this noise
Affright thee; since, whate'er the power he hath,
Yet he thy way nor hinders nor destroys. "
Then, turning to that bloated face, he saith:
" Accursid wolf, be silent, and consume
Thyself within thee, and thy bestial wrath.
Not without cause seek we the land of gloom;
It is ordain'd on high, whence Michael sent
The haughty rebel headlong to his doom. "
As when strong wind the swelling sails hath bent,
And, if the mast doth break beneath its strain,
They fall; so fell that beast of fierce intent.
Thus the fourth lake of darkness did we gain,
Down by the doleful bank, which doth enclose
Of the whole universe the guilt and pain.
Ah! justice of our God, that such strange woes
And labours dire hath heap'd within this bourne,
Why doth our sin such suffering impose?
Ev'n as the waves above Charybdis turn
And break, with all that in its pool is cast,
Thus whirl the dwellers in this land forlorn.
Here I beheld a multitude more vast
Than elsewhere I had seen; with a loud cry
From this side and from that they swiftly pass'd,
And with their breasts great burdens roll'd. And aye
Against each other dash'd, they turn'd them back,
And spake aloud: " Why hold ye fast? and why
Fling ye away? " Thus in this region black
They ceaseless whirl and each doth each upbraid,
With voice reproachful, in their mournful track;
And then when round the circle they had sped
But half, are to the tourney driven once more.
And I, whose heart was pierced with sorrow, said:
" My Master, show, I pray thee, of thy lore,
And say if all are priests among that band,
Who seem as they the priestly tonsure wore. "
And thus he answer'd me: " Now understand,
They were so blinded in their earthly life,
That never in just measure did they spend;
And thus their voice with sore reproof is rife,
When they at end of the half-circle turn:
For guilt diverse doth cause their ceaseless strife.
All those by whom thou seest the tonsure worn
Were priests, and popes, and cardinals, in whom
Foul avarice hath all good things o'erborne. "
I said: " My Master, ev'n amid this gloom
Methinks that I some souls might recognise,
Who by such guilt were brought unto their doom. "
Then he: " Within thy mind vain thoughts arise;
The life ignoble which their form bemocks
Now all resemblance hideth from thine eyes.
For ever, come they to those direful shocks;
And these shall from the sepulchre come forth
With closid hand, and those with close-cut locks.
Ill giving and ill keeping things of earth
Hath lost them bliss, and placed them in this pain:
To paint it, sooth, are words of little worth.
And now, my son, thou seest how short the gain
Of goods that in the hand of Fortune lie;
For which the human race doth strive and strain.
For all the gold that is beneath the sky,
And e'er hath been, yet cannot give repose
To one among those weary souls. " Then I
Thus spake: " My Master, unto me disclose
What is this Fortune, which thou spak'st of here,
The spring from whence all worldly grandeur flows? "
And he to me: " O foolish, who do wear
An ignorance that e'en yourselves offends!
Unto the words which now I speak give ear.
The Being whose great wisdom far transcends
All knowledge, made the starry myriads bright,
And gave to them a spirit-guide, who blends
Each motion, parting equally their light;
And, in like manner, mundane splendours wane,
At the command of One who guides aright,
And changes, in the rolling years, each vain
Possession of this earth, from race to race,
Despite the human power that would restrain.
From nation unto nation, empires pass
At bidding of a Power that lies unseen,
Ev'n as a serpent hid among the grass.
'Gainst her your wisdom all in vain hath been;
She rules her realm, providing for each day,
As doth each other Heavenly Power, I ween.
Her ceaseless changing knows nor truce nor stay;
With hasty footsteps still she needs must fly;
So swiftly speeds both good and ill away.
And this is she whom men do vilify,
And blame most wrongfully with evil voice;
When rather they should praise her name for aye.
But she is blest, nor heeds their rude annoys,
And with each bright Intelligence above
Revolves her sphere in everlasting joys.
But now to greater woes our steps must move;
Each star, that dawn'd when first I met thee, now
Is waning and doth our delay reprove. "
Across the shadowy circle did we go,
Hard by a seething fount, whose waters through
A self-worn channel ever fret and flow.
More dark than dullest lead that river's hue;
And we pass'd on beside the dismal stream,
And with it enter'd on a pathway new.
And now these waters sorrowful and grim
Spread in a stagnant lake whose name is Styx,
Amid the land of mournful darkness dim.
And I, who on the marsh mine eyes did fix,
Saw forms all naked and bemirid stand,
And seem as those whom sharpest sorrow pricks.
They strike themselves, not only with the hand,
But with the head, and eke with breast and feet,
And fiercely with their teeth themselves they rend.
Then the good Master said: " My son, here greet
Thee now the souls of those on whom do lie
The penalties of anger; and ev'n yet
Is more than thou dost see: for know, there sigh
Beneath the water some whose moanings bear
Upward those bubbles that now meet thine eye.
Fix'd in the slime they say: " In the sweet air
And the glad sunshine sadness on us lay,
For sullen sloth we did within us wear;
Thus now we mourn in the foul, miry clay."
This strain they gurgle hoarsely in their throat,
Which nought with words entire hath power to say. "
Thus, in wide circuit, round that region fraught
With foulness, 'twixt the dry and dank we pass'd;
And still our eyes those souls bemirid sought;
Then to the base of a great tower we came at last