Classic Poem

CANTO XXIII

Silent , lonely, and with no company,
One before and one after, as on their way
Journey the Minor Friars, journeyed we.
My thought, that lingered on the present fray,
Was turned to Aesop and his fable, where
The frog would the inveigled mouse betray.
For Yes and Yea make not a better pair
Than that with this case, if but with good heed
End and beginning be accoupled fair.
And, as one thought springs from another's seed,
So out of that soon did another start
Which made my first fear double terror breed.
I thus considered: These through us the smart
Of scorn have suffered, mockery, loss, and wound
Of such sort to have stung them to the heart.
And if with rage their enmity be crowned,
They will come after us with more cruel tread
Than, snapping at the leveret, comes the hound.
Already I felt my hair all rise in dread
And stood with backward gaze and anxious brow,
As " Master, if thou hide not quickly, " I said,
" Thyself and me, I have terror, I avow,
Of the Evil-Talons; they are close behind.
I so imagine them, I hear them now. "
And he: " Were I of glass and leaden-lined,
Thine outward image were not in me shown
Sooner than now is the image of thy mind.
Already thy thoughts came among my own
With the like motion and the self-same face,
So that the two to one resolve have grown.
If the right bank so shelves down to its base
That we may into the other chasm descend,
We shall escape well from that dreaded chase. "
Of these words hardly had he made an end
When them I saw, coming with outspread wing
Not far off, ardent us to apprehend.
My Guide suddenly seized me, hurrying
As a mother whom the roaring flames awake,
Who close about her sees them start and spring,
Snatches her child and flieth, for his sake
More than her own, and has no thought to stop
So long as even a shift on her to take;
And down the hard rock from the ridge's top
Supine resigned him to its pendent side
Which the other chasm on one hand walleth up.
Never so fast by sluice did water glide
To make revolve the wheel of a land-mill
When o'er the floats it gathers speed to slide,
As did my Master down that bordering hill,
And me upon his bosom, as his son,
Not now as his companion, carried still.
Scarce had his gliding feet the level won
Of the hollow deep, when they were on the height
Above us; but all fear of them was gone.
For the high Providence that did commit
Them to be warders of that fifth ravine
Taketh from them the power of leaving it.
There in the moat beneath was to be seen
A painted people who circled with slow tread
Weeping, with drooping and defeated mien.
They wore cloaks with a deep hood on the head
Before their eyes, according to the mode
Wherein the monks of Cluny are habited.
Without, these were so gilded that they glowed
To the eye; within all lead, and so heavy
That Frederic's were of straw to such a load.
O weary mantle in that eternity!
We turned again to the left hand, and drew
Along with them, intent on their deep sigh.
But under the aching weight so slow that crew
Came on, that at each movement of the thighs
The company abreast of us was new.
Wherefore I to my Guide: " Do thou devise
To find one who by deed or name is known,
And, as we go on, move around thine eyes. "
And one, who recognized the Tuscan tone,
Cried after us: " O stay, relax your speed,
Ye who so run through this our gloomy zone.
Perchance from me thou'lt have what thou dost need. "
Whereat my Guide turned round on me and said,
" Delay a little, and at his pace proceed. "
I stood still, and saw two whose looks betrayed
Their mind's haste to be with me, but whom the throng
And the weight that they were burdened with delayed.
When they came up to us, they stood gazing long
Askance at me, but uttered not a word;
Then turned to each other and spoke themselves among:
" By the working of his throat this one appeared
Alive; and if dead, why of the heavy shroud
Have they permission to go undeterred? "
Then to me spoke they: " O Tuscan, to this crowd
That comest where the hypocrites go sad,
To tell us who thou art be not too proud. "
And I to them: " By Arno's water glad
Was I born; in that city did I grow,
And am with the body I have always had.
But ye, who are ye, from whom distils such woe
As I behold down-dropping either cheek?
What punishment upon you glitters so? "
And one of them replied: " Of lead so thick
Our orange copes are that the balances
By the greatness of the weights are made to creak.
Jovial Friars were we, and Bolognese;
I Catalano, he Loderingo; us
To choose together did thy city please
Where one sole man the custom is to choose
For maintenance of its peace; our time of power,
As still appeareth, the Gardingo rues. "
I began: " Friars, your misdeeds " — but more
Said not, for one came now before mine eyes
Crucified with three stakes upon that floor.
He, when he saw me, into his beard with sighs
Blew, and contorted all his limbs as well;
And Friar Catalano, marking this,
Said: " He, impaled, on whom thy gaze doth dwell,
Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet
That one should suffer for the whole people.
Naked and cross-wise on the road he is set
As thou beholdest, and must feel the load
Of all that pass above him on their feet.
His father-in-law hath wretched like abode
Within this fosse, with the others whose consent
For all the Jews a seed of evil sowed. "
Then I saw Virgil marvelling as he bent
Over him outstretcht on the cross, in plight
So abject, in the eternal banishment.
The Friar in these words did he then invite:
" May it not displease you, if your law permit,
To tell us if a gap be on the right
By which we both may issue and hence be quit,
Nor any of the Black Angels need compel
To come and to retrieve us from this pit. "
So he answered: " Nearer than thy hopes foretell
A rock that from the encircling wall doth go
Maketh a bridge across the valleys fell,
Save here where the arch is broken and roofless, so
That you may mount the ruin, which is spread
All down the slope, and heaps itself below. "
The Guide stood still a little with bended head,
Then spoke: " Maliciously did he advise
Who hooks the sinners in yon seething bed. "
The Friar then: " Of the devil's iniquities
Once in Bologna I heard told, and heard
That he is a liar and the father of lies. "
Then with long strides my Guide went onward, stirred
To trouble and with an angered look: whereat
With the laden spirits no more I conferred,
Following the prints of his beloved feet.