THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Dante Alighieri
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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

       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

       Of those, who load them with committed sin.

       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

       Branded th' Apulian name, or where beyond

       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

       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,

       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

       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

       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 amazed,

       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

       Then fix'd it to depart. Another shade,

       Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilate

       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

       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

       That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;

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       "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

       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

       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

       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

       Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws

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

       He speaks not for himself: the outcast this

       Who overwhelm'd the doubt in Caesar's mind,

       Affirming that delay to men prepar'd

       Was ever harmful. "Oh how terrified

       Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut

       The