This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;
“No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er
The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears
Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat
Inly he pines: so Phlegyas inly pined
In his fierce ire. My guide, descending, stepp’d
Into the skiff, and bade me enter next,
Close at his side; nor, till my entrance, seem’d
The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d,
Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,
More deeply than with others it is wont.
While we our course o’er the dead channel held,
One drench’d in mire before me came, and said:
“Who art thou, that thus comest ere thine hour?”
I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not:
But who art thou, that art become so foul?”
“One, as thou seest, who mourn:” he straight replied.
To which I thus: “In mourning and in woe,
Curst spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,
E’en thus in filth disguised.” Then stretch’d he forth
Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage
Aware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there
To the other dogs!” then, with his arms my neck
Encircling, kiss’d my cheek, and spake: “O soul,
Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom
Thou wast conceived. He in the world was one
For arrogance noted: to his memory
No virtue lends its lustre; even so
Here is his shadow furious. There above,
How many now hold themselves mighty kings,
Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,
Leaving behind them horrible dispraise.”
I then: “Master! him fain would I behold
Whelm’d in these dregs, before we quit the lake.”
He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shore
Be offer’d, satisfied shall be that wish,
Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his words
Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes
Set on him with such violence, that yet
For that render I thanks to God, and praise.
“To Filippo Argenti!”[50] cried they all:
And on himself the moody Florentine
Turn’d his avenging fangs. Him here we left,
Nor speak I of him more. But on mine ear
Sudden a sound of lamentation smote,
Whereat mine eye unbarr’d I sent abroad.
And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son
Draws near the city, that of Dis is named,
With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.”
I thus: “The minarets already, Sir!
There, certes, in the valley I descry,
Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire
Had issued.” He replied: “Eternal fire,
That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame
Illumed; as in this nether Hell thou seest.”
We came within the fosses deep, that moat
This region comfortless. The walls appear’d
As they were framed of iron. We had made
Wide circuit, ere a place we reach’d, where loud
The mariner cried vehement: “Go forth:
The entrance is here.” Upon the gates I spied
More than a thousand, who of old from Heaven
Were shower’d. With ireful gestures, “Who is this,”
They cried, “that, without death first felt, goes through
The regions of the dead?” My sapient guide
Made sign that he for secret parley wish’d;
Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus
They spake: “Come thou alone; and let him go,
Who hath so hardily enter’d this realm.
Alone return he by his witless way;
If well he knew it, let him prove. For thee,
Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark
Hast been his escort.” Now bethink thee, reader!
What cheer was mine at sound of those curst words.
I did believe I never should return.
“O my loved guide! who more than seven times[51]
Security hast render’d me, and drawn
From peril deep, whereto I stood exposed,
Desert me not,” I cried, “in this extreme.
And, if our onward going be denied,
Together trace we back our steps with speed.”
My liege, who thither had conducted me,
Replied: “Fear not: for of our passage none
Hath power to disappoint us, by such high
Authority permitted. But do thou
Expect me here; meanwhile, thy wearied spirit
Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assured
I will not leave thee in this lower world.”
This said, departs the sire benevolent,
And quits me. Hesitating I remain
At war, ’twixt will and will not, in my thoughts.
I could not hear what terms he offer’d them,
But they conferr’d not long, for all at once
Pellmell rush’d back within. Closed were the gates,
By those our adversaries, on the breast
Of my liege lord: excluded, he return’d
To me with tardy steps. Upon the ground
His eyes were bent, and from his brow erased
All confidence, while thus in sighs he spake:
“Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?”
Then thus to me: “That I am anger’d, think
No ground of terror: in this trial I
Shall vanquish, use what arts they may within
For hindrance. This their insolence, not new,[52]
Erewhile at gate less secret they display’d,
Which still is without bolt; upon its arch
Thou